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HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE. 


AOAC NALS 


J } ie ) x ; Pe 





HISTORY 


OF 


SPANISH LITERATURE. 


BY 


GEORGE TICKNOR. 





IN THREE VOLUMES. 
VOT BE, 


FOURTH AMERICAN EDITION, CORRECTED AND ENLARGED, 


BOSTON: 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 


Che Riversive Press, Cambridge, 


Copyright, 1863, 
By TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 
Copyright, 1871, 
By ANNA TICKNOR. 
Copyright, 1891, 
By ANNA E. TICKNOR. 


’ All rights reserved. 


CONTENTS OF VOL. IL. 


SECOND PERIOD. 


(CONTINUED. ) 


CHAPTER V. 
DipacTic PoETRY AND PROSE. — CASTILIAN LANGUAGE. 

Early Didactic Poetry ~ ‘ee a 1 8'] Juan d6-Ayiaws gat ise cee 1p 
Luis de Escobar . 4 . 4 | Antonio de Guevara . ; ; Pe 
Alonso de Corelas.. ° - + 6] His Relox de Principes . : ‘ 16 
Gonzalez de la Torre ‘ . - 5 | His Década de los Césares. . « 18 
Didactic Prose . : ‘ ° - 6] His Epistolas . ware ‘ ‘ 19 
Francisco de Villalobos . 6 | His other Works. : ‘ ; a a 
Fernan Perez de Oliva ‘ - - 9] The Didlogo de las Lenguas . 5 21 
Juande Sedefo . ‘ : : 11 | Its probable Author . : 22 
Cervantes de Salazar . . ° - 11) State of the Castilian Tatonace fern 
Luis Mexia . : : ‘ : 11 the Time of Juande Mena . oo 26 
Pedro de Navarra : . ‘ -» 12] Contributions toit . : ‘ p 25 
Pedro Mexia . ‘ = é é 12 | Dictionaries and Grammars ‘ e 26 
Gerdnimo de Urrea_ . ° . - 13| The Language formed . ‘ ‘ 27 


Palacios Rubios A : ; ‘ 15 | The Dialects 2 ; % = ee: 
Alexio de Vanegas. ‘ : - 15| The Pure Castilian. . : ; 28 


GCHAPTER VI. 
HISTORICAL LITERATURE. 


Chronicling Period gone by - + 81] Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo . . 88 
Antoniodo Guevara . . . 81 | His Historia de las Indias . , 39 
Florian de Ocampo. te so) a, Ok His Ouinntagenad 4, «1 V% . 42 


Pero Mexia . @ * A 83 | Bartolomé de las Casas . p : 42 
Accounts of the New World A . 84] His Brevifsima Relacion : 4 Pees, 
Fernando Cortés . ; e ‘ 84 | His Historia de las Indias 2 2 46 


Francisco Lopez de Gomara .  . 86| Vaca, Xerez,and @arate . . . 47 
POE LIAG es? te tant ty 87 | Approach to Regular History . ‘ 48 


CHAPTER VII. 


THEATRE IN THE TIME OF CHARLES THE FIFTH, AND DURING THE First PART 
OF THE REIGN OF PHILIP THE SECOND. 


Drama opposed by the Church . . 49|Juande Paris . ’ . ‘ 52 
Inguisition interferes . ° . °49|Jaume de Huete . ° 54 
Religious Dramas continued . . 50/Agostin Ortiz . + . 55 
Secular Plays, Castillejo, Oliva . 51/| Popular Drama attempted 55 


SELADSG 


Vl 


Lope de Rueda . rae ‘ 
His Four Comedias . : : 


Los Engafios : Sew ate 
Medora . 3 : 
Eufemia 3 : : x 


Armelina : ‘ 
His Two Pastoral Colloquies 
His Ten Pasos 


CONTENTS. 


56 
57 
57 
58 
58 
58 
59 
62 


His Two Dialogues in Verse 

His insufficient Apparatus 

He begins the Popular Drama 
Juan de Timoneda . : 

His Cornelia 

His Menennos . : 

His Blind Beggars > ee 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THEATRE, CONCLUDED. 


Followers of Lope de Rueda 
Alonso de la Vega, Cisneros . 
Attempts at Seville 

Juan de la Cueva 

Romero de Zepeda 

Attempts at Valencia 

Cristéval de Virues ; 
Translations from the Ancients 
Villalobos, Oliva. 

Boscan, Abril . “ 


72 
72 
72 
73 
75 
76 
76 
78 
78 
78 


Gerdnimo Bermudez . ‘ 
Lupercio de Argensola 

Spanish Drama to this Time 

The Attempts to form it few . 

The Apparatus imperfect 
Connection with the Hospitals 
Court-yards in Madrid 

Dramas have no uniform Character 
A National Drama demanded 


CHAPTER IX. 


LuIs DE LEON. 


Religious Element in Spanish Litera- 


ture . 
Luis de Leon . : 
His Birth and Training 
Professor at Salamanca . 
His Version of Solomon’s Song . 
His Persecution for it 
Summoned before the Inquisition 
Imprisoned 
Judgment . ° 2 


MIGUEL 
His Family : 
His Birth 
His Education . F ‘ 


His first published Verses 
Goes to Italy ‘ 
Becomes a Soldier : 
Fights at Lepanto . : . 
And at Tunis. 

Is captured at Sea 

Is a Slave at Algiers . 

His cruel Captivity . : ° 


89 
89 
89 
90 
91 
91 
92 
93 
94 


Return to Salamanca . j - 
Work on the Canticles 

His Names of Christ . 

His Perfect Wife : 
His Exposition of Job . : ‘ 


His Death 5 - - A 4 
His Poetry . : ° : 
His Translations . “ - 


His Original Poetry . : 
His Character . = 2 3 


CHAPTER X. 


DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA. 


107 
108 
109 
109 
110 
110 
rhe 
112 
112 
112 
118 


His Release fs 

His desolate Condition : 
Serves in Portugal. : 

His Galatea “ ‘ 

His Marriage . 

His Literary Friends . 

His First Dramas . : : 
His Trato de Argel . ° 
His Numantia : : 
Character of these Dramas 


63 
64 
66 
66 
67 
68 
68 


78 
80 
83 
83 
84 
85 
85 
86 
87 


96 
97 
98 
100 
100 
101 


- 102 


103 


- 104 


106 


114 
115 
116 
116 
119 
120 
120 
122 
125 
131 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XI. 


CERVANTES, 
He goes to Seville . ; 3 . 182 
His Life there : ‘ a 133 
Asks Employment in Aerie: - 183 
Short Poems . : : : 134 
Tradition from La Rrnahn . . 135 
He goes to Valladolid . : , 136 
First Part of Don Quixote ‘ ey, 
He-goes to Madrid . 5 ‘ A 137 


Relations with Poets there ; . 188 





CONTINUED. 


With Lope de Vega . 
His Novelas 

His Viage al Parnaso 
His Adjunta . 


His Eight Comedias . 


His Eight Entremeses 


Second Part of Don Quixote 


His Sickness . 
His Death . 


CHAPTER XII. 


CERVANTES, 
His Persiles y Sigismunda : . 158 
His Don Quixote, First Part : 161 
His Purpose in writing it . : * G2 
Passion for Romances of Chivalry 164 
He destroys it. : ee fi 
Character of the First Part : : 166 
Avellaneda’s Second Part. ; 7488 
Its Character . ‘ : : : 169 





CONCLUDED. 


Cervantes’s Satire on it . 


His own Second Part 
Its Character . 


Don Quixote and Sencha f 
Blemishes in the Don Quixote 


Its Merits and Fame . 
Claims of Cervantes 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Lore FELIX DE VEGA CARPIO. 


His Birth . A "i i - 180 
His Education é ‘; P : 181 
A Soldier . F : : «183 
Patronized by Manniane ‘ . 183 
Bachelor at Aleala . ‘ : Pye fos: 
His Dorothea . : 2 P ‘ 184 
Secretary to Alva . . . .~ 184 
His Arcadia . : : : ‘ 185 
Marries : 7 : : ghee 
Is exiled for a Duel : ‘ p 188 
Life at Valencia. , . 188 


Establishes himself at Madrid ; 189 


Death of his Wife 
Serves in the Armada 
Marries again 

His Children . 

Death of his Sons 
Death of his Wife . 
Becomes a Priest 

His Poem of San Isidro 


His Hermosura de Angélica 


His Dragontea 


His Peregrino en su Patria 
His Jerusalen Conquistada 


CHAPTER XIV. 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED. 


His Relations with the Church . 207 
His Pastores de Belen ? . ov 20 
Various Works . : ; : 209 
Beatification of San Isidro : - 210 
Canonization of San Isidro . x 214 
Tomé de Burguillos . d , - 215 
His Gatomachia . ‘ ‘ p 215 
Various Works . 5 p . i 216 
His Novelas . - F ; f 217 


He acts as an Inquisitor 
His Religious Poetry 
His Corona Tragica . 
His Laurel de Apolo 
His Dorotea 

His Last Works 

His Illness and Death 
His Burial 

His Will 


s 


198 


Vill 


138 
140 
145 
146 
148 
151 
154 
155 
156 


170 
171 
172 
1738 
175 
178 
178 


189 
190 
192 
192 
193 


194 
195 
198 
201 
203 
204 


218 
219 
220 
221 
222 
222 
223 
224 
225 


oa 


eee 


Vill 


His Miscellaneous Works . 


Their Character . 
His earliest Dramas . 
At Valencia . 

State of the Theatre. 
El Verdadero Amante . 
EI Pastoral de Jacinto 
His Moral Plays 

The Soul’s Voyage 

The Prodigal Son . 


The Marriage of the Soul . 


The Theatre at Madrid . 
His published Dramas 


Comedias Herdicas 
Roma Abrasada . 
El Principe Perfeto 
El Nuevo Mundo . 


El] Castigo sin Venganza . 


Dramas on Common Life . 


El Cuerdo en Casa 
La Donzella Teodor . 
Cautivos de Argel . 


Three Classes of Secular Plays 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XV. 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED. 


227 
228 
229 
230 
231 
232 
233 
233 
234 
235 
236 
238 
238 





Their great Number . 
His Dramatic Purpose . 
Varieties in his Plays 


Comedias de Capa y ee 


Their Character 

Their Number 

El Azero de Madrid . 
La Noche de San Juan . 


Festival of the Count Duke 


La Boba para los Otros . 


El Premio del Bien Hablar 


Various Plays 


CHAPTER XVI. 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED. 


257 
258 
260 
264 
266 


La Estrella de Sevilla. 
National Subjects . 
Various Plays ° . 


Character of the Heroic Drama 


CHAPTER XVII. 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED. 


The Influence of the Church. 


Religious Plays . 


Plays founded on the Bible ; 


El Nacimiento de Christo . 


Other such Plays .. 
Comedias de Santos . 
Several such Plays . 


CHAPTER 


275 
275 
277 
279 
281 
281 
282 
283 
2838 
287 
288 
289 








San Isidro de Madrid 
Autos Sacramentales 


Festival of the Corpus Christi 


Number of Lope’s Autos 
Their Form 

Their Loas . 4 
Their Entremeses 

The Autos themselves . 


Lope’s Secular Entremeses 
Popular Tone of his Drama . 


His Eclogues 


A Viiid, 


LORE DE VEGA, CONCLUDED. 


Variety in the Forms of his Dramas 
Characteristics of all of them 


Personages. 
Dialogue . 
Irregular Plots . 
‘Mistory disregarded 


805 
805 
806 
806 
806 
3807 


Gebgraphy. ire 
Morals . 2 ° . 
Dramatized Novelle . 
Comic Underplot . . 
Graciosos . ; A 
Poetical Style eur te 


239 
241 
243 
243 
244 
245 
245 
249 
853 
254 
255 
255 


270 
271 
271 
273 


290 
292 
298 
295 
296 
297 
297 
299 
801 
802 
803 


808 
809 
809 
810 
811 
812 


CONTENTS. 


Various Measures . . . #. 818|HislargeIncome . . . . 
Ballad Poetry in them . : . 313 | Still he is Poor . . ° : 
Popular Air of everything - + 815] Great Amount of his Works . 

His Successat Home . . . 816 | Spirit of Improvisation . 

His Success abroad . . : - 816 


CHAPTER XIX. 
FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO Y VILLEGAS. 


Birth and Training . d x - 822 | Its Characteristics . . ‘ 


Exile . ° . . . 823 | Cultismo . : ° ° : 
Public Service in Sicily By we - 824 | El Bachiller de la Torre of Vive 
In Naples. : : . ° 824 | His Prose Works : 
Persecution at Home. . . - 825; Paulthe Sharper. . he te 
Marries . ; . ek . 325 | Various Tracts . : ° 


Persecution again . : : - 825) The Knight of the Farbeps 

His Sufferings and Death. ° 827 | La Fortuna con Seso. : : 
Variety of his Works ‘ ‘ - 827 Visions . : - : 3 ‘ 
Many suppressed . ‘ . : 827 | Quevedo’s Character ; . 
His Poetry Seer Oe Wie wie (828 





CHAPTER XX. 


THE DRAMA OF LOPE’s SCHOOL. 


Madrid the Capital . : ~ + 8465 | Corneille’s Cid abe : 

Its Effect on the Drama ° . 846 | Guillen’s Cid. ° ‘ 
Damian de Vegas. ‘ - «+ 846) Other Plays of Guillen . ° ‘ 
Francisco de Tarrega . : . 847 | Luis Velez de Guevara. é 
His Enemiga Favorable . . . 848) Mas pesael Rey quela Sangre . 
Gaspar de Aguilar de At ATS 849 | Other Plays of Guevara . 

His Mercader Amante . . . 849/| Juan Perez de Montalvan . . 
His Suerte sin Esperanza . ‘ 851 | His San Patricio . 

Guillen de Castro. . ° . 852|His Orfeo. : : 

His Dramas . 2 Snes ests 853 |} His Dramas. 4 : : 
His Mal Casados . ° x . 854} His Amantes de Teruel , : 
His Don Quixote . - 2 ° 854 | His Don Carlos. : : 
His Piedad y Justicia . «. » - 865) His Autos . ‘ : : 
His Santa Barbara : ‘ ‘ 855 | His Theory of the eee ; 





His Mocedades del Cid . 4 . 857 | His Success . : ‘ 4 ; 


CHAPTER XXI. 


DRAMA OF LOPE’s SCHOOL, CONCLUDED. 


Tirso del Molina le ys Batt a ee re : 
EE A rm een 879 | His Religious Dramas pits 
His Burlador de Sevilla . . . 880] Antonio de Mendoza . ‘ : 
His Don Gil . : , § 3 881] Ruizde Alarcon. . ; 
His Vergonzoso en Palacio - » 883|His Dramas . . whi 4 . 
His Theory of the Drama... 886 | His Texedor de Segovia... 
Antonio Mira de Mescua . ‘ . 886 | His Verdad Sospechosa. . ‘ 
His Dramas and Poems ie 887 | Other Plays. . ol ky 


Joseph de Valdivielso - . + 888| Belmonte, Cordero ad ge kus 


818 
318 
819 
820 


830 
831 
832 
835 
836 
838 
338 
838 
339 
843 


858 
859 
362 
862 
865 
366 
367 
868 
369 
370 
371 
374 
375 
876 
377 


888 
889 
890 
891 
892 
892 
393 
894 
895 


x CONTENTS. 


Enriquez, Villaizan . - 
Sanchez, Herrera . - ° : 
Barbadillo, Solorzano : 

Un Ingenio . ° . : 
El Diablo Precicaaas ; . 


895 | Opposition to Lope’s School . 
396 | By Men of Learning . . 
396 | By the Church 

397 | The Drama triumphs 

898 | Lope’s Fame . 


CHAPTER XXII. 


PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. 


Birth and Family 

Education . : 
Festivals of San Isidro . . 
Serves as a Soldier 5 

Writes for the Stage . 


Patronized by Philip:the Roush ; 


Rebellion in Catalonia 

Controls the Theatre 

Enters the Church . ; 

Less favored by Charles the Serena 
Death and Burial i ; ; 
Person and Character 

His Works. ;. ‘ 4 

His Dramas . A 2 e k 


407 | Many falsely ascribed to him 
408 | The Number of the Genuine. 
409 | His Autos Sacramentales . 
409 | Feast of the Corpus Christi . 
410 | His different Autos 

410 | His Divino Orfeo . 

410 | Popularity of his Autos . 
411 | His Religious Plays . 

411 | Troubles with the Church. 
412 | Ecclesiastics write Plays 

413 | Calderon’s San Patricio . 
414 | His Devocion de la Cruz 

415 | His Magico Prodigioso 

416 | Other similar Plays 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


CALDERON, CONTINUED. 


Characteristics of his Drama 
Trusts to the Story , ° 
Sacrifices much to it . 
Dramatic Interest strong 
Love, Jealousy, and Honor 


439 | Amar despues de la Muerte . 
440 | El Médico de su Honra 

441 | El Pintor de su Deshonra 

442 | El Mayor Monstruo los Zelos 
443 | El Principe Constante 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


CALDERON, CONCLUDED. 


Comedias de Capa y Espada 

Antes que Todo es mi Dama. 

La Dama Duende. ; : 

La Vanda y la Flor 

Various Sources of Calderon's Plots 
Castilian Tone everywhere 
Exaggerated Sense of Honor 
Domestic Authority . 5 . 
Duels . ; : : : 


461 | Immoral Tendency of his Dramas 
462 | Attacked . ° : : 

463 | Defended ° . 

466 | Calderon’s courtly Tone . . 
469 | His Style and Versification 

472 | His long Success . 

473 | Changes the Drama little . 

473 | But gives it a lofty Tone . 


474 | His Dramatic Character : . 


CHAPTER XXV. 


DRAMA OF CALDERON’S SCHOOL. 


Most Brilliant Period. < ‘ 
_Agustin Moreto . . 
His Dramas ; - . . 


486 | Figuron Plays : . > : 


486 | El Lindo Don Diego . 


487 | El Desden con el Desden ‘ F 


401 
401 
402 
404 
405 


417 
420 
421 
422 
424 
425 
428 
429 
430 
430 
431 
433 
434 
437 


443 
447 
450 
451 
455 


475 
475 
475 
476 
478 
480 
481 
482 
483 


488 
488 
489 


CONTENTS. Xl 


Francisco de Roxas... , . 491] Sebastian de Villaviciosa . ‘ 502 
His Dramas . , : . ‘ 491 | Antonio de Solfs : : : . 504 
Del Rey abaxo Ninguno . : . 492} Francisco Banzes Candamo . : 506 
Several Authors to one Play. : 495 | Zarzuelas . : ; . i . 508 
Alvaro Cubillo . ; ; ; . 495] Opera at Madrid . : , ‘ 509 
Leyba and Cancer y Velasco , 497 | Antonio de Zamora . : . - 510 
Enriquez Gomez . ‘ . - 497/Lanini, Martinez . . : : 511 
Sigler and Zabaleta , : . 498 | Rosete, Villegas d ° . aroll 
Fernando de Zarate . . - - 498} Joseph de Canizares. ‘ 4 511 
Miguel de Barrios . ; < : 499 | Decline of the Drama : : - 513 
Diamante . . ‘ . : . 499] Vera y Villaroel . : : : 514 
Monteser, Cuellar . ; : é 500 | Inez de la Cruz . ; : ; ~ 614 
Juan de la Hoz . . : , - 501) Tellez de Azevedo : 514 


Juan de Matos Fragoso. . : 502 | Old Drama of Lope and of Calgon 514 


CHAPTER Xx 2.V i 
OLD THEATRE. 


Nationality of the Drama. . . 515|Titlesof Plays . .  . . 526 
The Autor of a Company . . 516 | Representations . : : ‘ - 527 


Relations with the Dramatists . - 516 | Loa : ‘ : : ‘ ° 527 
Actors, their Number . ; : 518 | Ballad : ‘ . , : - 628 
The most distinguished . : . 519} First Jornada ; P : ; 529 
Their Character and hard Life. 520 | First Entremes . ‘ . . 5380 
Exhibitions inthe Daytime . . 522] Second Jornada and Hntraraed : 531 
Poor Scenery and Properties : 522 | Third Jornada and Saynete . 531 
The Stage . ‘ ° ; ° . 523) Dancing ‘ ; , : : 531 
The Audience ° ; ‘ ‘ §23| Ballads. - : ; : . 532 
The Mosqueteros ° : . + - 523} Xacaras E : ‘ : : 532 
The Gradas, and Cazuela_ . ; §24 | Zarabandas é : . 588 
The Aposentos . ° ° . . 524] Popular Character of the pane : 534 
Entrance-money . . : 525 | Great Number of Authors : » 535 
Rudeness of the Renateneed ° . 525] Royal Patronage . : : : 5387 
Honors to the Authors . : ° 526 | Great Number of Dramas : . 538 


Play-bills . a re ee . 526] All National. . ‘ eve 539 


CHAPTER X XY LT. 


ISTORICAL AND NARRATIVE POEMS. 


Old Epic Tendencies. . 541 | Gabriel Lassodela Vega... . 555 
Revived in the Time of Gharies the Antoniode Saavedra . .  . 555 

Fifth . ‘ . ° - °. 6542] Juan de Castellanos . : ° . 555 
Hierénimo Sempere . . . 542| Centenera . 2 cass 556 
IuisdeCapata. . . =. . 543} Gaspar de Vilage aie) et . 557 
Diego Ximenez de Ayllon ... 544 | Religious Narrative Poems .. 558 


Hippolito Sanz. . . . « 544} Hernandez Blasco. Se eres: 
Espinosa and Coloma . ‘ ° 545 | Gabriel de Mata . ’ f : 558 
Alonso de Ercilla ° : : - 6545] Crist6val de Virues . ‘ ; - 558 
His Araucana - : ‘ : 548 | His Monserrate . : : s 559 
Diego de Osorio . ‘ . . . 652) Nicholas Bravo . = : ‘ . 560 
Pedro de Ofia . , . P 554 | Joseph de Valdivielso .  . ‘ 560 





XU CONTENTS. 


Diego de Hojeda . ww 561 | Hernando Dominguez Camargo . 568 
His Christiada . . «. «+ © 6561] Juan de Encisso y Mongon > « 668 
Alonso Diaz . ° ° ° . 562 | Imaginative Epics . . . . 564 
Antonio de Escobar . ; “ . 562 | Orlando Furioso ° ; ° - 564 
Alonso de Azevedo : : 562 | Nicolas Espinosa . . . ‘ 564 
Caudivilla Santaren . ‘ - - 562 | Martin de Bolea : ° ° . 567 
Rodriguez de Vargas. : : 563 | Garrido de Villena oi 567 
Jacobo Uziel . carer, . . 563} Agustin Alonso . . ERR - 567 
Sebastian de Nieva Calvo . : 563 | Luis Barahona de Soto . ‘ ° 568 
Duran Vivas . . . -  . 568] His Lagrimas de Angélica - ww BS 
Juan Davila . . : ; - 563 | Bernardo de Balbuena . . ‘ 569 
Antonio Enriquez Gomez . ; - 563! His Bernardo . : oh - 569 


CHAPTER XA VIII. 
HIsTORICAL AND NARRATIVE POEMS, CONCLUDED. 


Subjects from Antiquity . -» « 571| Don John of Austria . Si) ee 582 
Boscan, Vendoza, Silvestre . ° 571| HierOnimo de Cortereal . . . 583 
Montemayor, Villegas : ; . 571) Juan Rufo'. > : . - 584 
Perez, Romero de Cepeda . : 572 | Pedro dela Vezilla . sie - 585 
Fabulas, GOngora . . : - 578] Miguel Giner . ; : : ° 586 
Villamediana, Pantaleon 4 : 573 | Duarte Diaz * ° : - 586 
Moncayo, Villalpando ; - - 573 | Lorenzo de Zamora : ‘ . 586 
Miscellaneous Subjects . ; . 574 | Christ6val de Mesa . eh be . 587 
YaguedeSalas. . . . . 574} Juan dela Cueva . dik ea a" 588 
Miguel de Silveira . . . : 576 | Alfonso Lopez, El Pinciano . . 589 


Fr. Lopez de Zarate . . : . 576} Francisco Mosquera . ° ° 590 
Mock-heroic Poems A A - 577 | Vasconcellos . ‘ ; é - 590 
Cosme de Aldana 4 RP ity - 5781| Bernarda Ferreira . “ - 591 


Cintio Merctisso . - , - 579 | Antonio de Vera y Figueroa . . 592 
Villaviciosa mar ; , - 580} Borja y Esquilache oi a as 592 
SeRtOMACHIA LH. Ny 2s | Ws? ois 581| Rise of Heroic Poetry . . . 6594 
Heroic Poems ier. 3° Fe eo) abe DSCNS | i 4. annem ee 595 


EELS 2 ORY 


OF 


SPANISH LITERATURE. 


SECOND PERIOD. 


THE LITERATURE THAT EXISTED IN SPAIN FROM THE ACCESSION OF 
THE AUSTRIAN FAMILY TO ITS EXTINCTION; OR FROM THE 
BEGINNING OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY TO 
THE END OF THE SEVENTEENTH. 


(CONTINUED.) 


VOL. II. 1 


CTR: ey 


Th aaa 


Ce We Ee Aad Hel ie ie pan 
phat wet is gen ahah 1M 
nent Ch Uh i ie WA AST 


Wad thee tie ass ALLY 





HISTORY OF SPANISH LITERATURE. 


SECOND PERIOD. 


(CONTINUED.) 





CHAPTER OV. 


DIDACTIC POETRY. — LUIS DE ESCOBAR. — CORELAS. — TORRE. — DIDACTIC 
PROSE. — VILLALOBOS. — OLIVA. — SEDENO. — SALAZAR. — LUIS MEXIA. — 
PEDRO MEXIA. — NAVARRA. — URREA.— PALACIOS RUBIOS. — VANEGAS. — 
JUAN DE AVILA. — ANTONIO DE GUEVARA.—DIALOGO DE LAS LENGUAS. 
— PROGRESS OF THE CASTILIAN FROM THE TIME OF JOHN THE SECOND 
TO THAT OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES THE FIFTH. 


Wui se an Italian spirit, or at least an observance of 
Italian forms, was beginning so decidedly to prevail in 
Spanish lyric and pastoral poetry, what was didactic, 
whether in prose or verse, took directions somewhat 
different. 

In didactic poetry, among other forms, the old one 
of question and answer, known from the age of Juan 
de Mena, and found in the Cancioneros as late as Bada- 
joz, continued to enjoy much favor. Originally, such 
questions seem to have been riddles and witticisms; 
but in the sixteenth century they gradually assumed a 
graver character,and at last claimed to be directly and 
absolutely didactic, constituting a form in which two 
remarkable books of light and easy verse were pro- 
duced. The first of these books 1s called “The Four 
Hundred Answers to as many Questions of the Illus- 
trious Don Fadrique Enriquez, the Admiral of Castile, 


4 DIDACTIC POETRY. [Perrop II. 


and other Persons.”! It was printed three 
*4 times in 1545, the year *in which it first ap- 

peared, and had undoubtedly a great success in the 
class of society to which it was addressed, and whose 
manners and opinions it strikingly illustrates. It con- 
tains at least twenty thousand verses, and was followed, 
in 1552, by another similar volume, chiefly in prose, 
and promising a third, which, however, was never 
published. Except five hundred proverbs, as they are 
inappropriately called, at the end of the first volume, 
and fifty glosses at the end of the second, the whole 
consists of such ingenious questions as a distinguished 
old nobleman in the reign of Charles the Fifth and his 
friends might imagine it would amuse or instruct them 
to have solved. They are on subjects as various as 
possible, — religion, morals, history, medicine, magic, 
—in short, whatever could occur to idle and curious 
minds; but they were all sent to an acute, good-hu- 
mored Minorite friar, Luis de Escobar, who, being bed- 
ridden with the gout and other grievous maladies, had 
nothing better to do than to answer them. 

His answers form the body of the work. Some of 
them are wise and some foolish, some are learned and 
some absurd ; but they all bear the impression of their 
age. Once we have a long letter of advice about 
a godly life, sent to the Admiral, which, no doubt, was 
well suited to his case; and repeatedly we get com- 
plaints from the old monk himself of his sufferings, 
and accounts of what he was doing; so that from dif- 
ferent parts of the two volumes it would be possible to 

1 My copy is entitled, Vol. I., Las 1545; printed in folio at Zaragoza, ff, 
Quatrocientas Respuestas a otras tantas 122, blk. let. two and three columns, 
Preguntas que el illustrissimo (sic) Vol. II., La Segunda Parte de las Qua- 
Semor Don Fadrique Enriquez, Almi-  trocientas Respuestas, ec. En Valla- 


rante de Castilla y otras diversas perso- dolid, 1552. Folio, ff. 245, blk. let. 
nas embiaron a preguntar al autor, ec., twocolumns. More than half in prose. 


Cuar. V.] DIDACTIC POETRY. 5 


collect a tolerably distinct picture of the amusements of 
society, if not its occupations, about the court, at the 
period when they were written. The poetry is in many 
respects not unlike that of Tusser, who was contempo- 
rary with Escobar, but it is better and more spirited.’ 
*The second book of questions and answers to *5 
which we have referred is graver than the first. 
It was printed the next year after the great success of 
Escobar’s work, and is called “ Three Hundred Questions 
concerning Natural Subjects, with their Answers,” by 
Alonso Lopez de Corelas, a physician, who had more 
learning, perhaps, than the monk he imitated, but is 
less amusing, and writes in verses neither so well con- 


structed nor so agreeable.’ 


Others followed, like Gonzalez de la Torre, who in 
1590 dedicated to the heir-apparent of the Spanish 


2 Escobar was of the family of that 
name at Sahagun, but lived in the con- 
vent of St. Francis at Rioseco, a posses- 
sion of the great Admiral. This he 
tells us in the Preface to the Second 
Part. Elsewhere he complains that 
many of the questions sent to him 
were in such bad verse that it cost him 
a great deal of labor to put them into a 
proper shape ; and it must be admitted 
that both questions and answers gener- 
ally read as if they came from one hand. 
Sometimes a long moral dissertation 
occurs, especially in the prose of the 
second volume, but the answers are 
rarely tedious from their length. Those 
in the first volume are the best, and 
Nos. 280, 281, 282, are curious, from 
the accounts they contain of the poet 
’ himself, who must have died after 1552. 
In the Preface to the first volume, he 
says the Admiral died in 1538. If the 
whole work had been completed, ac- 
cording to its author’s purpose, it would 
have contained just a thousand ques- 
tions and answers. For a specimen we 
may take No. 10 (Quatrocientas Pre- 
guntas, Caragoca, 1545, folio) as one of 
the more ridiculous, where the Admiral 
asks how many keys Christ gave to St. 
Peter; and No. 190 as one of the 
better sort, where the Admiral asks 


whether it be necessary to kneel before 

the priest at confession, if the penitent 

finds it very painful ; to which the old 

monk answers gently and well, — 

He that, through suffering sent from God above, 
Confessing, kneels not, still commits no sin ; 


But let him cherish modest, humble love, 
And that shall purify his heart within. 


The fifth part of the first volume con- 
sists of riddles in the old style; and, 
as Eseobar adds, they are sometimes 
truly very old riddles ; so old, that they 
must have been generally known. 

The Admiral to whom these ‘‘ Respu- 
estas” were addressed was the stout old 
nobleman who, during one of the ab- 
sences of Charles V., was left Regent 
of Spain, and who ventured to give his 
master counsels of the most plain- 
spoken wisdom (Salazar, Dignidades, 
1618, Lib. III. c. 15; Ferrer del Rio, 
Decadencia de Espana, 1850, pp. 16, 


3 The Volume of Corelas ‘‘ Trezientas 
Preguntas” (Valladolid, 1546, 4to) is 
accompanied by a learned prose com- 
mentary in a respectable didactic style. 
There seems to have been an earlier 
edition the same year, containing only 
two hundred and fifty questions and 
answers. (See Salva’s Catalogues, 1826 
and 1829, Nos. 1236, 3304.) 


6 DIDACTIC PROSE. [Perron II. 


throne a volume of such dull religious riddles as were 
admired a century before* But nobody, who wrote in 
this peculiar didactic style of verse, equalled Escobar, 
and it soon passed out of general notice and regard.° 

In prose, about the same time, a fashion appeared of 
imitating the Roman didactic prose-writers, just as those 

writers had been imitated by Castiglione, Bembo, 
*6 Giovanni * della Casa, and others in Italy. The 

impulse seems plainly to have been communicated 
to Spain by the moderns, and not by the ancients. It 
was because the Italians led the way that the Romans 
were imitated, and not because the example of Cicero 
and Seneca had, of itself, been able to form a prose 
school, of any kind, beyond the Pyrenees? The fash- 
ion was not one of so much importance and influence 
as that introduced into the poetry of the nation; but 
it is worthy of notice, both on account of its results 
during the reign of Charles the Fifth, and on account 
of an effect more or less distinct which it had on the 
prose style of the nation afterwards. 

The eldest among the prominent writers produced by 
this state of things was Francisco de Villalobos, of whom 
we know little except that he belonged to a family 
which, for several successive generations, had been 
devoted to the medical art; that he was himself the 
physician, first of Ferdinand the Catholic,’ and then of 


* Docientas Preguntas, etc., por Juan 
Gonzalez de la Torre, Madrid, 1590, 
4to. 

5 J should rather have said, perhaps, 
that the Preguntas were soon restricted 
to the fashionable societies and acade- 
mies of the time, as we see them wittily 
exhibited in the first jornada of Cal- 
-deron’s ‘‘ Secreto 4 Voces.” 

6 The general tendency and tone of 
‘the didactic prose-writers in the reign 
of Charles V. prove this fact; but the 
Discourse of Morales, the historian, 
prefixed to the works of his uncle, Fer- 


nan Perez de Oliva, shows the way in 
which the change was brought about. 
Some Spaniards, it is plain from this 
curious document, were become ashamed 
to write any longer in Latin, as if their 
own language were unfit for practical 
use in matters of grave importance, 
when they had, in the Italian, exam- 
ples of entire success before them. 
(Obras de Oliva, Madrid, 1787, 12mo, 
Tom. I. pp. xvi-xlvii.) 

7 There is a letter of Villalobos, dated 
at Calatayud, October 6, 1515, in which 
he says he was detained in that city by 


Cuar. V.] FRANCISCO DE VILLALOBOS. 7 


Charles the Fifth ; that he published, as early as 1498, 
a poem on his own science, in five hundred stanzas, 
founded on the rules of Avicenna;® and that he con- 
tinued to be known as an author, chiefly on subjects 
connected with his profession, till 1543, before which 
time he had become weary of the court, and sought a 
voluntary retirement, in which he died, above seventy 


years old. His translation of the “Amphitryon ” of 
Plautus belongs rather to the theatre, but, like 
that of Oliva, soon to be mentioned, * produced no *7 


effect there, and, like his scientific treatises, de- 
mands no especial notice. The rest of his works, 
including all that belong to the department of elegant 
literature, are to be found in a volume of moderate size, 
which he dedicated to the Infante Don Luis of Por- 
tugal. 

The chief of them is called “Problems,” and is di- 
vided into two tractates: the first, which is very short, 
being on the Sun, the Planets, the Four Elements, and 
the Terrestrial Paradise ; and the last, which is longer, 
on Man and Morals, beginning with an essay on Satan, 
and ending with one on Flattery and Flatterers, which is 
especially addressed to the heir-apparent of the crown 
of Spain, afterwards Philip the Second. LEach of these 
subdivisions, in each tractate, has eight lines of the old 
Spanish verse prefixed to it, as its Problem, or text, and 
the prose discussion which follows, like a gloss, consti- 
tutes the substance of the work. The whole is of a very 
miscellaneous character; most of it grave, like the es- 


ticed, to have been displeased with his 


the king’s severe illness. (Obras, Cara- 
pepo as early as 1515; but he must 
1 


goca, 1544, folio, f. 71, b.) This was 
the illness of which Ferdinand died in 


less than four months afterward. 

8 Mendez, Typographia, p. 249. An- 
tonio, Bib. Vetus, ed. Bayer, Tom. II. 
p- 344, note. 

® He seems, from the letter just no- 


ave continued at court above twenty 
years longer, when he left it poor and 
disheartened. (Obras, f. 45.) From a 
passage two leaves further on, I think 
he left it after the death of the Em- 
press, in 1539, 


8 FRANCESCO DE VILLALOBOS. [Prerrop II. 


says on Knights and Prelates, but some of it amusing, 
like an essay on the Marriage of Old Men.” The 
best portions are those that have a satirical vein in 
them; such as the ridicule of litigious old men, and 
of old men that wear paint.” 

A Dialogue on Intermittent Fevers, a Dialogue on 
the Natural Heat of the Body, and a Dialogue between 
the Doctor and the Duke, his patient, are all quite in 
the manner of the contemporary didactic discussions 
of the Italians, except that the last contains passages of 
a broad and free humor, approaching more nearly to 
the tone of comedy, or rather of farce.” <A treatise that 
follows, on the Three Great Annoyances of much talk- 

ing, much disputing, and much laughing,” and a 
*8 * grave discourse on Love, with which the volume 
ends, are all that remain worth notice. They have 
the same general characteristics with the rest of his 
miscellanies; the style of some portions of them being 
distinguished by more purity and more pretensions to 
dignity than have been found in the earlier didactic 
prose-writers, and especially by greater clearness and 
exactness of expression. Occasionally, too, we meet 
with an idiomatic familiarity, frankness, and spirit, that 
are very attractive, and that partly compensate us for 
ca de Autores Espafioles, Tom. XXXVI. 
1855. | 
12 Obras, f. 35. 
18 | have translated the title of this 


Treatise ‘‘The Three Great Annoy- 
ances.” In the original it is ‘‘The 


10 If Poggio’s trifle, ‘‘An Seni sit 
Uxor ducenda,” had been published 
when Villalobos wrote, I should not 
doubt he had seen it. As it is, the 
coincidence may not be accidental, for 
Poggio died in 1449, though his Dia- 


logue was not, I believe, printed till 
the present century. 

11 The Problemas constitute the first 
part of the Obras de Villalobos, 1544, 
and fill thirty-four leaves. A few poems 
by Villalobos may be found in the Can- 
cionero of 1554 (noticed ante, Vol. I. 
p. 393, n.); but they are of much less 
worth than his prose, and the best of 
his works are reprinted in the Bibliote- 


Three Great ——,” leaving the title, 
says Villalobos in his Prologo, unfin- 
ished, so that everybody may fill it 
up as he likes. Among the MSS. of 
the Academy of History at Madrid 
is an amusing ‘‘Coloquio” by Villalo- 
bos on a medical question, and some 
of his pleasant letters. See Spanish 
translation of this History, Tom. IL 
p. 506. 


Cuar. V.] FERNAN PEREZ DE OLIVA. 9 


the absurdities of the old and forgotten doctrines in 
natural history and medicine, which Villalobos incul- 
cated because they were the received doctrines of his 
time. 

The next writer of the same class, and, on the whole, 
one much more worthy of consideration, is Fernan 
Perez de Oliva, a Cordovese, who was born about 1492, 
and died, still young, in 1530. His father was a lover 
of letters; and the son, as he himself informs us, was 
educated with care from his earliest youth. At twelve 
years of age, he was already a student in the Univer- 
sity of Salamanca; after which he went, first, to Alcala, 
when it was in the beginning of its glory; then to 
Paris, whose University had long attracted students 
from every part of Europe; and finally to Rome, where, 
under the protection of an uncle at the court of Leo 
the Tenth, all the advantages to be found in the most 
cultivated capital of Christendom were accessible to 
him. | 

On his uncle’s death, it was proposed to him to take 
several offices left vacant by that event; but loving 
letters more than courtly honors, he went back to Paris, 
where he taught and lectured in its University for three 
years. Another Pope, Adrian the Sixth, was now on 
the throne, and, hearing of Oliva’s success, endeavored 
anew to draw him to Rome; but the love of his coun- 
try and of literature continued to be stronger than the 
love of ecclesiastical preferment. He returned, 
therefore, to Salamanca; * became one of the *9 
original members of the rich “College of the Arch- 
bishop,” founded in 1528; and was successively chosen 
Professor of Ethics in the University, and its Rector. 
But he had hardly risen to his highest distinctions, 
when he died suddenly, and at a moment when so 


10 FERNAN PEREZ DE OLIVA. [Perrop II. 


many hopes rested on him that his death was felt as a 
misfortune to the cause of letters throughout Spain.“ 
Oliva’s studies at Rome had taught him how success- 
fully the Latin writers had been imitated by the Ital- 
ians, and he became anxious that they should be no less 
successfully imitated by the Spaniards. He felt it as 
a wrong done to his native language, that almost all se- 
rious prose discussions in Spain were still carried on in 
Latin, rather than in Spanish.” Taking a hint, then, 
from Castiglione’s “ Cortigiano,” and opposing the cur- 
rent of opinion among the learned men with whom he 
lived and acted, he began a didactic dialogue on the 
Dignity of Man, formally defending it as a work in the 
Spanish language written by a Spaniard. Besides this, 
he wrote several strictly didactic discourses : one on the 
Faculties of the Mind and their Proper Use; another 
urging Cordova, his native city, to improve the naviga- 
tion of the Guadalquivir, and so obtain a portion of the 
rich commerce of the Indies, which was then monopo- 
lized by Seville ; and another, that was delivered at Sal- 
amanca, when he wasa candidate for the chair of moral 


14 The most ample life of Oliva is in 
Rezabal y Ugarte, ‘‘ Biblioteca de los 
Escritores, que han sido individuos de 
los seis Colegios Mayores” (Madrid, 
1805, 4to, pp. 239, etc.). But all that 
we know about him, of any real inter- 
est, is to be found in the exposition he 
made of his claims and merits when 
he contended publicly for the chair 
of Moral Philosophy at Salamanca. 
(Obras, 1787, Tom. II. pp. 26-51.) 
In the course of it, he says his travels 
all over Spain and out of it, in pursuit 
of knowledge, had amounted to more 
than three thousand leagues. 

15 Obras, Tom. I. p. xxiii. Luis de 
Leon was of the same mind at the same 
period, but his opinion was not printed 
until later. See post, Chap. IX. note 
12. But Latin continued to be exclu- 
sively the language of the Spanish Unt- 
versities for above two centuries longer. 


In an anonymous controversial pam- 
phlet published at Madrid in 1789, and 
entitled ‘‘Carta de Paracuellos,” we 
are told (p. 29), ‘‘ Los aiios pasados el 
Consejo de Castilla mandé a las Univer- 
sidades del Reyno que, en las funciones 
literarias, solo se hablase en Latin. 
Bien mandado, ec.” And yet, the in- 
judiciousness of the practice had been 
ably set forth by the well-known schol- 
ar, Pedro Simon de Abril, in an ad- 
dress to Philip II., as early as 1589, 
and the reasons against it stated with 
force and precision. See his ‘‘ Apunta- 
mientos de como se deven reformar las 
doctrinas y la manera de ensefiallas.” 
Editions of this sensible tract were 
also printed in 1769 and 1817 ;—the 
last, with notes and a_ preliminary 
discourse by José Clemente Caricero, 
seems to have had some effect on opin- 
ion. 


Cnar. V.] SEDENO, SALAZAR, LUIS MEXIA, CERIOL. Ai, 


philosophy ; * in all which his nephew, Morales, * 10 
the historian, assures us it was his uncle’s strong 
desire to furnish practical examples of the power and 
resources of the Spanish language.” 

The purpose of giving greater dignity to his na- 
tive tongue, by employing it, instead of the Latin, 
on all the chief subjects of human inquiry, was cer- 
tainly a fortunate one in Oliva, and soon found imita- 
tors. Juan de Sedejio published, in 1536, two prose 
dialogues on Love and one on Happiness; the former 
in a more graceful tone of gallantry, and the latter in 
a more philosophical spirit and with more terseness of 
manner than belonged to the age.” Francisco Cervan- 
tes de Salazar, a man of learning, completed the dia- 
logue of Oliva on the Dignity of Man, which had been 
left unfinished, and, dedicating it to Fernando Cortés, 
published it in 1546," together with a long prose fable 
by Luis Mexia, on Idleness and Labor, written in a pure 
and somewhat elevated style, but too much indebted to 
the “ Vision” of the Bachiller de la Torre.” Fadrique 
Ceriol in 1559 printed, at Antwerp, an ethical and 


16 The works of Oliva have been pub- 
lished at least twice ; the first time by 
his nephew, Ambrosio de Morales, 4to, 
Cordova, in 1585, and again at Madrid, 
1787, 2 vcls, 12mo. In the Index Ex- 
purgatorius, (1667, p. 424,) they are 
forbidden to be read, ‘‘till they are 
corrected,” —a phrase which seems to 
have left each copy of them to the 
discretion of the spiritual director of 
its owner. In the edition of 1787, a 
sheet was cancelled, in order to get rid 
of a note of Morales. See Index of 1790. 

In the same volume with the minor 
works of Oliva, Morales published fif- 
teen moral discourses of his own, and 
one by Pedro Valles of Cordova, none 
of which have much literary value, 
though several, like one on the Advan- 
tage of Teaching with Gentleness, and 
one on the Difference between Genius 
and Wisdom, are marked with excel- 
lent sense. That of Valles is on the 
Fear of Death. 


17 Siguense dos Coloquios de Amores 
y otro de Bienaventuranca, etc., por 
Juan de Sedefio, vezino de Arevalo, 
1536, sm. 4to, no printer or place, pp. 
16. This is the same Juan de Sedefto 
who translated the ‘‘ Celestina” into 
verse in 1540, and who wrote the 
‘*Suma de Varones Ilustres” (Areva- 
lo, 1551, and Toledo, 1590, folio) ;— 
a poor biographical dictionary, contain- 
ing lives of about two hundred dis- 
tinguished personages, alphabetically 
arranged, and beginningwith Adam. Se- 
defio was a soldier, and served in Italy. 

1 The whole Dialogue — both the 
part written by Oliva and that written 
by Francisco. Cervantes — was pub- 
lished at Madrid (1772, 4to) in a new 
edition by Cerda y Rico, with his usual 
abundant, but awkward, prefaces and 
annotations. 

19 It is republished in the volume 
mentioned in the last note; but we 
know nothing of its author. 


12 


NAVARRA, PEDRO MEXIA. 


[Prerrop II, 


political work entitled “ Counsel and Councillors for a 
Prince,’ which was too tolerant to be successful 
*11 *in Spain, but was honored and _ translated 


abroad.” 


Pedro de Navarra published, in 1567, 


forty Moral Dialogues, partly the result of conversations 
held in an Acadenua of distinguished persons, who met, 
from time to time, at the house of Fernando Cortés.”! 
Pedro Mexia, the chronicler, wrote a Silva, or Miscel- 
lany, divided, in later editions, into six books, and sub- 


20 El Consejo y Consejeros del Prin- 
cipe, ec., Anvers, 1559. Only the first 
part was published. This can be found 
in the Biblioteca de Autores Espafioles, 
Tom. XXXVI. 1855. 

21 Dialogos muy Subtiles y Notables, 
ete., por D. Pedro de Navarra, Obispo 
de Comenge, Caragoca, 1567, 12mo, 118 
leaves. The first five Dialogues are on 
the Character becoming a Royal Chroni- 
cler ; the next four on the Differences 
between a Rustic and a Noble Life; 
and the remaining thirty-one on Prep- 
aration for Death ;— all written in a 
pure, simple Castilian style, but with 
little either new or striking in the 
thoughts. Their author says, it was a 
rule of the Academia that the person 
who arrived last at each meeting should 
furnish a subject for discussion, and 
direct another member to reduce to 
writing the remarks that might be 
made on it, —Cardinal Poggio, Juan 
d’ Estufiiga, knight-commander of Cas- 
tile, and other persons of note, being 
of the society. Navarra adds, that he 
had written two hundred dialogues, in 
which there were ‘‘few matters that 
had not been touched upon in that ex- 
cellent Academy,” and notes especially 
that the subject of ‘‘ Preparation for 
Death” had been discussed after the 
decease of Cobos, a confidential minis- 
ter of Charles V., and that he himself 
had acted as secretary on the occasion. 
Traces of anything contemporary are, 
however, rare in the forty dialogues he 
printed ;—the most important that I 
have noticed relating to Charles V. and 
his retirement at Yuste, which the good 
Bishop seems to have believed was a 
sincere abandonment of all worldly 
thoughts and passions. I find nothing 
to illustrate the character of Cortés, 


except the fact that such meetings were 
held at his house. Cervantes, in his 
Don Quixote, (Parte Il. c. 18,) calls 
him — perhaps on this account, per- 
haps for the sake of a play upon words 
— ‘‘cortesissimo Cortés.” Certainly I 
know nothing in the character or life of 
this ferocious conquistador which should 
entitle him to such commendation, ex- 
cept the countenance he gave to this 
Academia. 

The fashion of writing didactic dia- 
logues in prose was common at this 
period in Spain, and indeed until after 
1600, as Gayangos has well noted in 
his translation of this History, (Tom. 
II. pp. 508-510,) citing in proof of it 
the names of a considerable number of 
authors, most of whom are now for- 
gotten, but the best of whom, that I 
have not elsewhere noticed, are Diego 
de Salazar, 1536 ; Francisco de Miranda 
y Villafano, 1582 ; Bernardino de Esca- 
lante, 1583; Francisco de Valdés, 1586 ; 
Juan de Guzman, 1589; Diego Nufiez 
de Alva, 1589; and Sancho de Lodofio, 
1593. Of these, I should distinguish 
Nufiez de Alva, whose dialogues, in the 
copy I use, are entitled ‘‘ Dialogos de 
Diego Nufiez de Alva de la Vida del 
Soldado en que se quentan la conju- 
racion y pacificacion de Alamafa con 
todas las batallas, recuentros y escara- 
mucas que en ello acontecieron en los 
afios de 1546, y 7, ec. (En Salamanca, 
Andrea de Portinaris, Dialogo primero, 
1552, Dialogo segundo, 1553.” But the 
complete edition is Cuenca, 1589.) It 
is written in a pure and spirited style, 
and is not without value for its record 
of historical facts ; but it is chiefly in- 
teresting for what it tells us of a sol- 
dier’s life in the time of Charles V., — so 
different from what it is in our days. 


Cuap. V.] URREA. 13 


divided into a multitude of separate essays, historical 
and moral; declaring it to be the first work of the 
kind in Spanish, which, he says, he considers quite 
as suitable for such discussions as the Italian.” 

*To this, which may be regarded as an imita- * 12 
tion of Macrobius or of Athenzeus, and which 

was printed in 1543, were added, in 1548, six didactic 
dialogues, — curious, but of little value,—in the first 
of which the advantages and disadvantages of having 
regular physicians are agreeably set forth, with a light- 
ness and exactness of style hardly to have been ex- 
pected.* And finally, to complete the short list, Urrea, 
a favored soldier of the Emperor, and at one time vice- 
roy of Apulia, — the same person who made the poor 
translation of Ariosto mentioned in Don Quixote, — 
published, in 1566, a Dialogue on True Military Honor, 
which is written in a pleasant and easy style, and con- 
tains, mingled with the notions of one who says he 
trained himself for glory by reading romances of chiv- 
alry, not a few amusing anecdotes of duels and mil- 
tary adventures.” 


22 Silva de Varia Leccion, por Pedro don, 1618, fol.). It is a curious mix- 


Mexia. The first edition (Sevilla, 1543, 
fol.) is in only three parts. Another, 
which I also possess, is of Madrid, 1669, 
and in six books, filling » out 700 
closely printed quarto pag .: but the 
fifth and sixth books were first added, 
I think, in the edition of 1554, two 
years after his death, and do not seem 
to be his. It was long very popular, 
and there are many editions of it, be- 
sides translations into Italian, German, 
French, Flemish, and English. One 
English version is by Thomas For- 
tescue, and appeared in 1571. (War- 
ton’s Eng. Poetry, London, 1824, 8vo, 
Tom. IV. p. 312.) Another, which is 
anonymous, is called ‘‘ The Treasure of 
Ancient and Modern Times, etc., trans- 
lated out of that worthy Spanish Gen- 
tleman, Pedro Mexia, and Mr. Fran- 
cisco Sansovino, the Italian,” etc. (Lon- 


ture of similar discussions by different 
authors, Spanish, Italian, and French. 
Mexia’s part begins at Book I. ¢. 8. 

23 The earliest edition of the Dia- 
logues, I think, is that of Seville, 1548, 
which I use as well as one of 1562, 
both 12mo, lit. got. The second dia- 
logue, which is on ‘‘ Inviting to Feasts,” 
is amusing; but the last, which is on 
subjects of physical science, such as the 
causes of thunder, earthquakes, and 
comets, is nowadays only curious or 
ridiculous. At the end of the Dia- 
logues, and sometimes at the end of 
old editions of the Silva, is found a free 
translation of the Exhortation to Virtue 
by Isocrates, made from the Latin of 
Agricola, because Mexia did not under- 
stand Greek. It is of no value. 

24 Dialogo de la Verdadera Honra 
Militar, por Gerdnimo Ximenez de Ur- 


14 OLIVA. [Pertop II. 


Both of the works of Pedro Mexia, but especially his 
Silva, enjoyed no little popularity during the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries; and, in point of style, they 
are certainly not without merit. None, however, of 
the productions of any one of the authors last men- 
tioned had so much force and character as the first 
part of the Dialogue on the Dignity of Man. And 

yet Oliva was certainly not a person of a 
*13 commanding genius. *His imagination never 

warms into poetry; his invention is never 
sufficient to give new and strong views to his subject ; 
and his system of imitating both the Latin and the 
Italian masters rather tends to debilitate than to 
impart vigor to his thoughts. But there is a general 
reasonableness and wisdom in what he says that win 
and often satisfy us; and these, with his style, which, 
though sometimes declamatory, is yet, on the whole, 
pure and well settled, and his happy idea of defending 
and employing the Castilian, then coming into all 
its rights as a living language, have had the effect 
of giving him a more lasting reputation than that 
of any other Spanish prose-writer of his time.” 


rea. There are editions of 1566, 1575, 
1661, etc. (Latassa, Bib. Arag. Nueva, 
Tom. I. p. 264.) Mine is a small quar- 
to volume, Zaragoza, 1642. One of the 
most amusing passages in the Dialogue 
of Urrea is the one in Part First, con- 
taining a detailed statement of every- 
thing relating to the duel proposed by 
Francis I. to Charles V. There are 
verses by him in the Cancionero of 
1554, (noticed ante, Vol. I. p. 393, n.,) 
and in the Library of the University of 
Zaragoza there are, in MS., the second 
and third volumes of a Romance of 
Chivalry by him, entitled ‘‘ Don Clari- 
sel de las Flores.” See Spanish trans- 
lation of this History, Tom. II. p. 
511. 

25 As late as 1592, when the ‘‘Con- 
version de la Magdalena,” by Pedro 
Malon de Chaide, was published, the 


opposition to the use of the Castilian 
in grave subjects was continued. He 
says people talked to him as if it were 
‘*a sacrilege” to discuss such matters 
except in Latin (f. 15). But he replies, 
like a true Spaniard, that the Castilian 
is better for such purposes than Latin 
or Greek, and that he trusts before long 
to see it as widely spread as the arms 
and glories of his country (f. 17). On 
the other hand, in 15438, a treatise 
on Holy Affections, — ‘‘ Ley de Amor 
Sancto, — written by Francisco de Os- 
suna, with great purity of style, and 
sometimes with fervent eloquence, was 
published without apology for its Cas- 
tilian, and dedicated to Francisco de 
Cobos, a confidential secretary of Charles 
V., adverted to in note 21. I think 
Ossuna was dead when this treatise 
appeared. 


Cuar. V.] PALACIOS RUBIOS, VANEGAS, AVILA. 15 


The same general tendency to a more formal and 
elegant style of discussion is found in a few other 
ethical and religious authors of the reign of Charles 
the Fifth that are still remembered; such as Palacios 
Rubios, who wrote an essay on Military Courage, 
for the benefit of his son;* Vanegas, who, under 
the title of “The Agony of Passing through Death,” 
gives us what may rather be considered an ascetic 
treatise on holy living;” and Juan de Avila, 
sometimes called the Apostle *of Andalusia, * 14 
whose letters are fervent exhortations to virtue 
and religion, composed with care and often with elo- 
quence, if not with entire purity of style.* 

The author in this class, however, who, during his 
lifetime, had the most influence, was Antonio de 
Guevara, one of the official chroniclers of Charles the 
Fifth. He was a Biscayan by birth, and passed some 
of his earlier years at the court of Queen Isabella. 


26 A full account of Juan Lopez de 
Vivero Palacios Rubios, who was a 
man of consequence in his time, and 
engaged in the famous compilation of 
the Spanish laws called ‘‘ Leyes de 
Toro,” is contained in Rezabal y Ugarte 
(Biblioteca, pp. 266-271). His works 
in Latin are numerous ; but in Spanish 
he published only ‘‘ Del Esfuerzo Belico 
Heroyco,” which appeared first at Sala- 
manca in 1524, folio, but of which 
there is a beautiful Madrid edition, 
1793, folio, with notes by Francisco 
Morales. 

27 Antonio, Bib. Nov., Tom. I. p. 8. 
He flourished about 1531-1545. His 
«‘Agonia del Transito de la Muerte,” a 
glossary to which, by its author, is 
dated 1543, was first printed from his 
corrected manuscript many years later. 
My copy, which seems to be of the 
first edition, is dated Alcala, 1574, and 
isin 12mo. The treatise called ‘‘Dife- 
rencias de Libros que ay en el Uni- 
verso,” by the same author, who, how- 
ever, here writes his name Venegas, 
was finished in 1539, and printed at 
Toledo in 1540, 4to. It is written in 


a good style, though not without con- 
ceits of thought and conceited phrases. 
But it is not, as its title might seem to 
imply, a criticism on books and au- 
thors, but the opinion of Vanegas him- 
self, how we should study the great 
books of God, nature, man, and Chris- 
tianity. It is, in fact, intended to dis- 
courage the reading of most of the books 
then much in fashion, and deemed by 
him bad. 

23 He died in 1569. In 1534 he was 
in the prisons of the Inquisition, and 
in 1559 one of his books was put into 
the Index Expurgatorius. Neverthe- 
less, he was regarded as a sort of Saint. 
(Llorente, Histoire de Il Inquisition, 
Tom. II. pp. 7 and 423.) His ‘‘ Car- 
tas Espirituales” were not printed, I 
believe, till the year of his death. 
(Antonio, Bib. Nova, Tom. I. pp. 639- 
642.) His treatises on Self-knowledge, 
on Prayer, and on other religious sub- 
jects, are equally well written, and in 
the same style of eloquence. A long 
life, or rather eulogy, of him is pre- 
fixed to the first volume of his works, 
(Madrid, 1595, 4to,) by Juan Diaz. 


16 ANTONIO DE GUEVARA. [Prriop II. 


In 1528 he became a Franciscan monk; but, enjoy- 
ing the favor of the Emperor, he seems to have been 
transformed into a thorough courtier, accompanying 
his master during his journeys and residences in Italy 
and other parts of Europe, and rising successively, by 
the royal patronage, to be court preacher, Imperial 
historiographer, Bishop of Guadix, and Bishop of 
Mondofiedo. He died in 1545.” 

His works were not very numerous, but they were 
fitted to the atmosphere in which they were produced, 
and enjoyed at once a great popularity. His “Dial 
for Princes, or Marcus Aurelius,’ first published in 
1529, and the fruit, as he tells us, of eleven years’ 
labor,” was not only often reprinted in Spanish, but 
was translated into Latin, Italian, French, and English ; 
in each of which last two languages it appeared many 
times before the end of the century." It is a kind 

of romance, founded on the life and character 
*15 of Marcus Aurelius, and resembles, *in some 

points, the “ Cyropsedia” of Xenophon; its pur- 
pose being to place before the Emperor Charles the 
Fifth the model of a prince more perfect for wisdom 
and virtue than any other of antiquity. But the 
Bishop of Mondofiedo adventured beyond his preroga- 
tive. He pretended that his Marcus Aurelius was 
genuine history, and appealed to a manuscript in 
Florence, which did not exist, as if he had done little 
more than make a translation of it. In consequence 


29 A life of Guevara is prefixed to 
the edition of his Epistolas, Madrid, 
1673, 4to; but there is a good account 
of him by himself in the Prologo to his 
‘* Menosprecio de Corte.” 

89 See the argument to his ‘‘ Década 
de los Césares.”’ 

81 Watt, in his ‘‘ Bibliotheca Britan- 
nica,” and Brunet, in his ‘‘ Manuel du 
Libraire,” give quite ample lists of the 


different editions and translations of 
the works of Guevara, showing their 
great popularity all over Europe. In 
French the number of translations in 
the sixteenth century was extraordi- 
nary. See La Croix du Maine et du 
Verdier, Bibliothéques, (Paris, 1772, 
4to, Tom. III. p. 128,) and the articles 
there referred to. 


Cuapr. V.] ANTONIO DE GUEVARA. 17 


of this, Pedro de Rua, a professor of elegant literature 
in the college at Soria, addressed a letter to him, in 
1540, exposing the fraud. Two other letters followed, 
written with more freedom and purity of style than 
anything in the works of the Bishop himself, and leav- 
ing him no real ground on which to stand.” He, 
however, defended himself as well as he was able; at 
first cautiously, but afterwards, when he was more 
closely assailed, by assuming the wholly untenable 
position that all ancient profane history was no more 
true than his romance of Marcus Aurelius, and that he 
had as good a right to invent for his own high pur- 
poses as Herodotus or Livy. From this time he was 
severely attacked; more so, perhaps, than he would 
have been if the gross frauds of Annius of Viterbo 
had not then been recent. But, however this may be, 
it was done with a bitterness that forms a strong con- 
trast to the applause bestowed in France, near the 
end of the eighteenth century, upon a somewhat 
similar work on the same subject by Thomas.” 


82 There are editions of the Cartas 


‘ questions, the satirical chronicler says ° 
del Bachiller Rua, Burgos, 1549, 4to, 


that he inquired: ‘‘ Querria saber, 


and Madrid, 1736, 4to, and a life of 
him in Bayle, Dict. Historique, Am- 
sterdam, 1740, folio, Tom. IV. p. 95. 
The letters of Rua, or Rhua, as his 
name is often written, are respect- 
able in style, though their critical 
spirit is that of the age and country 
in which they were written. The short 
reply of Guevara following the second 
of Rua’s letters is not creditable to 
him. 

There are several amusing hits at 
Guevara in the chronicle of Francesillo 
de Zuiiiga, the witty fool of Charles V. 
Ex. gr. in Chap. LXXXIV. he says 
that there was a great stir at court 
about the wonders of a deep cave near 
Burgos, in which a hidden miraculous 
voice would give answers to questions 
put to it. Many persons visited it. 
Among the rest Guevara went with a 
party, and when his turn came to put 


VOL. II. 2 


Sefora Voz, si tengo de ser mejorado 
en algun obispado, e que fuese presto 
.... @ 8 han de creer todo lo que yo 
escribo?” But, setting the jests of Fran- 
cesillo aside, Guevara was, no doubt, 
as Ferrer del Rio says of him, ‘* hombre 
de escasissima conciencia.” In _ his 
youth he seems to have been a rake. 
(Decadencia de Espaftta, 1850, pp. 139, 
sqq.) How shamelessly intolerant and 
cruel he afterwards became, we have 
already seen, ante, Period I., Chap. 
XXIV. note 8. 

83 Antonio, in his article on Guevara, 
(Bib. Nova, Tom. I. p. 125,) is very 
severe ; but his tone is gentle compared 
with that of Bayle, (Dict. Hist., Tom. 
II. p. 631,) who always delights to 
show up any defects he can find in 
the characters of priests and monks. 
There are editions of the Relox de 
Principes of 1529, 1532, 1537, etc. 


18 [Periop IT. 


ANTONIO DE GUEVARA. 
After all, however, the “Dial for Princes”’ is 
*16 little * worthy of the excitement it occasioned. 
It is filled with letters and speeches, ill-con- 
ceived and inappropriate, and is written in a formal 
and inflated style. Perhaps we are now indebted to it 
for nothing so much as for the beautiful fable of “The 
Peasant of the Danube,” evidently suggested to La 
Fontaine by one of the discourses through which 
Guevara endeavored to give life and reality to his 
fictions.™ 
In the same spirit, though with less boldness, he 
wrote his “Lives of the Ten Roman Emperors”; a 
work which, like his Dial for Princes, he dedicated to 
Charles the Fifth. In general, he has here followed 
the authorities on which he claims to found his narra- 
tive, such as Dion Cassius and the minor Latin histo- 
rians, showing, at the same time, a marked desire to 
imitate Plutarch and Suetonius, whom he announces 
as his models. But he has not been able entirely 
to resist the temptation of inserting fictitious letters, 
and even unfounded stories; thus giving a false view, 


The Rustic that so boldly spoke 
Before the Roman Senate. 


Thos. North, the well-known English 
translator, translated the ‘‘ Relox” in 


three books, adding, inappropriately, 
as a ‘‘fowerth,” the ‘‘Despertador de 
Cortesanos,” and dedicating the whole, 
in 1557, to Queen Mary, then wife of 
Philip II. It was the work of his 
youth, he says, when he was a student 
of Lincoln’s Inn ; but it contains much 
good old English idiom. My copy is 
in folio, 1568. 

84 La Fontaine, Fables, Lib. XI. fab. 
7, and Guevara, Relox, Lib. III. c. 8. 
The speech which the Spanish Bishop, 
the true inventor of this happy fiction, 
gives to his Rustico de Germania is, 
indeed, too long; but it was popular. 
Tirso de Molina, after describing a peas- 
ant who approached Xerxes, says in the 
Prologue to one of his plays, 


In short, 
He represented to the very life 


Cigarrales de Toledo, Madrid, 1624, 4to, p. 102. 


La Fontaine, however, did not trouble 
himself about the original Spanish or 
its popularity. He took his beautiful 
version of the fable from an old French 
translation, made by a gentleman who 
went to Madrid in 1526 with the Car- 
dinal de Grammont, on the subject of 
Francis the First’s imprisonment. It 
is in the rich old French of that period, 
and La Fontaine often adopts, with his 
accustomed skill, its picturesque phra- 
seology. I suppose this translation is 
the one cited by Brunet as made by 
René Bertaut, of which there were many 
editions. Mine is of Paris, 1540, folio, 
by Galliot du Pré, and is entitled ‘‘ Lor- 
loge des Princes, traduict Despaignol 
en Langaige Francois,” but does not 
give the translator's name. 


Cap. V.] ANTONIO DE GUEVARA. 19 


if not of the facts of history, at least of some of the 
characters he records. His style, however, though it 
still wants purity and appropriateness, is better and 
more simple than it is in his romance on Marcus 
Aurelius. 

* Similar characteristics mark a large collec- *17 
tion of Letters printed by him as early as 1539. 
Many of them are addressed to persons of great con- 
sideration in his time, such as the Marquis of Pescara, 
the Duke of Alva, Itigo de Velasco, Grand Constable 
of Castile, and Fadrique Enriquez, Grand Admiral. 
But some were evidently never sent to the persons ad- 
dressed, like the loyal one to Juan de Padilla, the head 
of the Comuneros, and two impertinent letters to the 
Governor Luis Bravo, who had foolishly fallen in love 
in his old age. Others are mere fictions, among which 
are a correspondence of the Emperor Trajan with Plu- 
tarch and the Roman Senate, which Guevara vainly 
protests he translated from the Greek, without saying 
where he found the originals,* and a long epistle about 
Lais and other courtesans of antiquity, in which he 
gives the details of their conversations as if he had 
listened to them himself. Most of the letters, though 


85 The ‘‘ Decada de los Césares,” with 
the other treatises of Guevara here 
spoken of, except his Epistles, are to 
be found in a collection of his works 
first printed at Valladolid in 1539, of 
which I have a copy, as well as one of 
the edition of 1545. Guevara seems to 
have been as particular about the typo- 
graphical execution of his works as 
he was about his style of composition. 
Besides the above, I have his Epistolas 
1539, 1542, 1543; his Oratorio de Re- 
ligiosos, 1543, 1545, and his Monte 
Calvario, 1543, 1549, —all grave black- 
letter folios, printed in different cities 
and by different printers, but all with 
an air of exactness and finish that is 
quite remarkable, and, I suspect, quite 
characteristic of the author. 


The translation of the ‘‘ Década,” by 
Edward Hellowes, published 1577, and 
dedicated to Queen Elizabeth, is not 
so good as North’s translation of the 
‘* Relox,” but it is worth having. I 
have Italian versions of several of 
Guevara's works, but they seem of no 
value. 

86 These very letters, however, were 
thought worth translating into English 
by Sir Geoffrey Fenton, and are found 
ff. 68-77 of a curious collection taken 
from different authors and published in 
London, (1575, 4to, black-letter, ) under 
the title of ‘‘ Golden Epistles.” Ed- 
ward Hellowes had already translated 
the whole of Guevara’s Epistles in 1574; 
which were again translated, but not 
very well, by Savage, in 1657. 


20 


ANTONIO DE GUEVARA. [Peniop II. 


they are called “ Familiar Epistles,” are merely essays 
or disputations, and a few are sermons in form, with 
an announcement of the occasions on which they were 
preached. None has the easy or natural air of a real 
correspondence. In fact, they were all, no doubt, pre- 
pared expressly for publication and for effect; and, 
notwithstanding their stiffness and formality, were 
greatly admired. They were often printed in Spain; 
they were translated into all the principal languages of 
Europe; and, to express the value set on them, they 
were generally called “The Golden Epistles.” But, 
notwithstanding their early success, they have long been 
disregarded, and only a few passages that touch the 
affairs of the time or the life of the Emperor can now 
be read with interest or pleasure.” 

* Besides these works, Guevara wrote several 
formal treatises. Two are strictly theological.® 
Another is on the Inventors of the Art of Navigation 
and its Practice ;— a subject which might be thought 
foreign from the Bishop’s experience, but with which, 
he tells us, he had become familar by having been 
much at sea, and visited many ports on the Mediter- 
ranean.” Of his two other treatises, which are all 


grils 


87 Epistolas Familiares de D. Antonio 
de Guevara, Madrid, 1673, 4to, p. 12, 
and elsewhere. Cervantes, en passant, 
gives a blow at the letter of Guevara 
about Lais, in the Prdlogo to the first 
part of his Don Quixote. 

8 One of these religious treatises is 
entitled ‘‘ Monte Calvario,’”’ 1542, trans- 
lated into English in 1595; and the 
other, ‘‘ Oratorio de Religiosos,” 1543, 
which is a series of short exhortations 
or homilies, with a text prefixed to 
each. The first is ordered to be ex- 
purgated in the Index of 1667, (p. 
67,) and both are censured in that of 
1790. 

89 Hellowes translated this, also, and 
printed it in 1578. (Sir E. Brydges, 
Censura Literaria, Tom. III. 1807, p. 


210.) It is an unpromising subject in 
any language, but in the original Gue- 
vara has shown some pleasantry, and 
an easier style than is common with 
him. Much interest for the sciences 
connected with navigation was awakened 
at Seville by the intercourse of that city 
with America in the time of Charles V., 
when Guevara lived there. It is be- 
lieved that the first really useful mari- 
time charts were made there. (Have- 
mann, p. 173.) The ‘‘ Arte de Nave- 
gar” of Pedro de Medina, printed at 
Seville in 1545 and early translated into 
Italian, French, and German, is said to 
have been the first book published on 
the subject. See Literatura Espanola 
.... en el Prefacio de N. Antonio, 
ec., 1787, p. 56, note. 


Cuar. V.] THE DIALOGO DE LAS LENGUAS. YY 


that remain to be noticed, one is called “ Contempt of 
Court Life and Praise of the Country”; and the other, 
“Counsels for Favorites and Teachings for Courtiers.” 
They are moral discussions, suggested by Castiglione’s 
“Courtier,” then at the height of its popularity, and 
are written with great elaborateness, in a solemn and 
stiff style, bearing the same relations to truth and wis- 
dom that Arcadian pastorals do to nature.” 

All the works of Guevara show the impress of their 
age, and mark their author’s position at court. They 
are burdened with learning, yet not without proofs of 
experience in the ways of the world; —they often 
show good sense, but they are monotonous from the 
stately dignity he thinks it necessary to assume on his 
own account, and from the rhetorical ornament by 
which he hopes to commend them to the regard of his 
readers. Such as they are, however, they illustrate and 
exemplify more truly, perhaps, than anything else of 
their age, the style of writing most in favor at the court 
of Charles the Fifth, especially during the latter part of 
that monarch’s reign. 

But by far the best didactic prose work of this pe- 
riod, though unknown and unpublished till two 
centuries afterwards, *is that commonly cited *19 
under the simple title of “The Dialogue on 
Languages ” ;— a work which, at any time, would be 
deemed remarkable for the naturalness and purity of its 
style, and is peculiarly so at this period of formal and 
elaborate eloquence. “I write,” says its author, “as I 
speak ; only I take more pains to think what I have to 
say, and then I say it as simply as I can; for, to my 
mind, affectation is out of place in all languages.” Who 

*° Both these treatises were translated tiquities, ed. Dibdin, London, 1810, 


into English ; the first by Sir Francis 4to, Tom. III. p. 460. 
Briant, in 1548. Ames’s Typog. An- 


yi) THE DIALOGO DE LAS LENGUAS. 


[Prerrop II. 


it was that entertained an opinion so true, but in his 
time so uncommon, is not certain. Probably it was 
Juan de Valdés, a person who has sometimes been said, 
but not, I think, justly, to have embraced the opin- 
ions of the Reformation. He was educated at the Uni- 
versity of Alcala, and during a part of his life pos- 
sessed not a little political consequence, being much 
about the person of the Emperor. It is not known 
what became of him afterwards; but he probably died 
in 1540, six years before Charles the Fifth attempted 
to establish the Inquisition in Naples, where Valdés 
lived long, and, therefore, it is not likely that he 
was seriously molested while he was there, although 
his opinions were certainly not always such as the 
Spanish Church exacted.” 

The Dialogue on Languages is supposed to be car- 
ried on between two Spaniards and two Italians, at 
a country-house on the sea-shore, near Naples, and is 
an acute discussion on the origin and character of the 
Castilian. Parts of it are learned, but in these the au- 
thor sometimes falls into errors ;* other parts are lively 
and entertaining ; and yet others are full of good sense 
and sound criticism. The principal personage — the 
one who gives all the instructions and explanations — 

is named Valdés; and, from this circumstance, 
*20 as well as from some intimations in the * Dia- 
logue itself, it may be inferred that Juan de 
Valdés was its author, and that it was written before 


41 Llorente (Hist. de l’Inquisition, 
Tom. II. pp. 281 and 478) makes some 
mistakes about Valdés, of whom ac- 
counts are to be found in McCrie’s 
‘* Hist. of the Progress, etc., of the Ref- 
ormation in Italy,” (Edinburgh, 1827, 
8vo, pp. 106 and 121,) and in his 
‘*Hist. of the Progress, etc., of+the 
Reformation in Spain” (Edinburgh, 
1829, 8vo, pp. 140-146). Valdés is 


supposed to have been an anti-Trinita- 
rian, but McCrie does not admit it. 

42 His chief error is in supposing that 
the Greek language once prevailed gen- - 
erally in Spain, and constituted the 
basis of an ancient Spanish language, 
which, he thinks, was spread through 
the country before the Romans appeared 
in Spain. 


Cuap. V.] 


JUAN DE VALDES. 


23 


1536 ;—a point which, if established, would account 
for the suppression of the manuscript, as the work of 
one inclined to heresy. In any event, the Dialogue 
was not printed till 1737, and therefore, as a speci- 
men of pure and easy style, was lost on the age that 


produced it.# 


48 The intimations alluded to are that 
the Valdés of the Dialogue had been at 
Rome; that he was a person of some 
authority ; and that he had lived long 
at Naples, and in other parts of Italy. 
He speaks of Garcilasso de la Vega as 
if he were alive, and Garcilasso died in 
1536. Llorente, in a passage just cited, 
calls Valdés the author of the ‘‘ Dia- 
logo de las Lenguas”; and Clemencin 
—a safer authority — does the same, 
once, in the notes to his edition of Don 
Quixote, (Tom. IV. p. 285,) though in 
other notes he treats it as if its author 
were unknown. 

44 The ‘‘Didlogo de las Lenguas” 
was not printed till it appeared in 
Mayans y Siscar, ‘‘ Origenes de la Len- 
gua Espaiiola,” (Madrid, 1737, 2 tom. 
12mo,) where it fills the first half of the 
second volume, and is the best thing in 
the collection. Probably the manu- 
script had been kept out of sight, as 
the work of a heretic. Mayans says 
that it could be traced to Zurita, the 
historian, and that, in 1736, it was 
purchased for the Royal Library, of 
which Mayans himself was then libra- 
rian. Gayangos says it is now in the 
British Museum, but this is a mistake. 
it is a modern copy that is there, num- 
bered ‘*9939, 4to, Additional MSS.” 
One leaf was wanting, — probably an 
expurgation, — which Mayans could not 
supply ; and, though he seems to have 
believed Valdés to have been the author 
of the Dialogue, he avoids saying so, — 
perhaps from an unwillingness to at- 
tract the notice of the Inquisition to it. 
(Origenes, Tom. I. pp. 173-180.) Iri- 
arte, in the ‘‘ Aprobacion”’ of the col- 
lection, treats the ‘‘ Dialogo” as if its 
author were quite unknown. 

Since the preceding part of this note, 
and what relates to the same subject in 
the text, were published, in 1840, more 
has become known about it, and I will, 
therefore, give the result as it stands 
in 1864. 


There were two brothers Valdés, — 
Juan and Alfonso, —twins, and so re- 
markably alike in character as well as 
in external appearance that Erasmus, 
speaking of them in a letter dated 
March 1, 1528, says they did not seem 
to be twins, but to be absolutely one 
person, — ‘‘non duo gemelli, sed idem 
prorsus homo.” They were both secre- 
taries to Charles V.; both went with 
him to Germany and Italy; and they 
both were men of talent and power, 
who wrote and taught in a liberal and 
wise spirit, rare always, and especially 
in a period like the troubled one in 
which they lived. From such a re- 
markable series of resemblances, and 
from the fact that opinions such as they 
entertained could not, in their own 
times, be very frankly and fully set 
forth, the two twin brothers have not 
infrequently been confounded as to the 
events of their lives and as to the au- 
thorship of their respective works. 

That Juan wrote the remarkable Dia- 
logue on the Language there can be no 
just doubt. Since the account given 
of it in the text was published in 1849, 
a much better edition of the work has 
been published with the imprint of 
Madrid, 1860, prepared from the man-_ 
uscript preserved in the National Li- 
brary there, which is the one used by 
Mayans in 1737, and the only old one 
known to exist. It settles this question 
of the authorship, and renders it prob- 
able that the work itself was originally 
entitled, as it ought to be, ‘‘Didalogo de 
la Lengua,” in the singular number, 
and not ‘‘ Dialogo de las Lenguas,” in 
the plural, — relating, as it really does, 
to the Spanish language alone, although 
reference is necessarily made in its dis- 
cussions to other languages. But, be- 
sides the well-considered examination 
of these points in the preface of this 
edition, it contains above a thousand 
different readings, important and unim- 
portant, all noted in the margin, and 


24 


Pian 


JUAN DE VALDES. 


[Periop II. 


*For us it 1s important, because it shows, 


with more distinctness than any other literary 
monument of its time, what was the state of the Span- 
ish language in the reign of the Emperor Charles the 


showing, as does everything in relation 
to the preparation of the work, great 
care and patience. 

Juan de Valdés wrote other works 
that are chiefly or wholly, like his ex- 
positions of St. Paul, religious and the- 
ological. Of these, the most important, 
I suppose, are his ‘‘ Alfabeto Chris- 
tiano”’ and his ‘‘ Ciento y Diez Conside- 
raciones,” both intended for Christian 
edification, and the last very compre- 
hensive in its character. But unhap- 
pily we possess neither of them as 
their author wrote them in his pure 
Castilian ; for having been prepared 
especially for the benefit of Italian 
friends, the first was published in Ital- 
ian, without date of place, in 1546, and 
the last at Basle in 1550, from which 
they have passed successively into the 
other modern languages, and, among 
the rest, into the Spanish. His ‘‘ Con- 
sideraciones,” in the English version of 
Nicholas Ferrar, was published at Ox- 
ford in 1638, and at Cambridge in 1646, 
with notes by Herbert, the pious poet 
of the Temple. See Izaak Walton’s 
Life of Herbert, 1819, p. 266, noting, 
however, that good Izaak is mistaken 
in what he says about Valdés. 

Of the works of Alfonso Valdés, two 
are especially worth notice, which, un- 
til lately, were supposed to have been 
written by his alter ego, Juan, and 
which, even in the new edition of the 
‘*Didlogo de la Lengua,” are claimed, 
on internal evidence, to be partly from 
his hand. 

They commonly appear under the 
simple title of ‘‘ Dos Dialogos,” as they 
were originally published s. d. about 
1530. The first of them is a dialogue 
between Mercury, Charon, and sundry 
souls newly arrived on the banks of the 
Styx, and must have been written as 
late as 1528, since it contains a letter 
from Charles V. dated in that year. 
The other is a dialogue between a 
young man named Lactancio, who may 
represent the author, and an ecclesiastic 
in a military dress fresh from Rome, 
where, amidst the confusion and vio- 
lence of its recent capture, monks and 


priests served and dressed as soldiers. 
These two persons, both Spaniards, 
meet accidentally in a public square 
of Valladolid, and, retiring for quietness 
into a neighboring church, carry on a 
free and full discussion of the troubles 
of their time, the report of which eon- 
stitutes the substance of the ‘‘ Dialogo.” 
It was probably written in 1528, and 
was certainly known in 1529, because 
in that year Alfonso Valdés is rebuked 
as its author for his heretical opinions 
by Castiglione, the Pope’s Nuncio in 
Spain, who tells him that if he were to 
visit Germany he would be heartily 
welcomed by Luther. 

Both of these curious and interesting 
discussions were intended to defend the 
Emperor in whatever relates to the cap- 
ture of Rome and the challenge of Fran- 
cis I., — recent events which were then 
in the mouths of all men. In each we 
have not a few important facts touching 
what had occurred within their author’s 
knowledge, and still more frequently 
glimpses of the state of opinion and 
feeling at a period of the greatest ex- 
citement and anxiety. In each, too, 
there is a large admixture of the spirit 
of religious controversy ; but though 
the vices of the priesthood and the low 
condition of Christianity in the world 
are freely exposed in many passages, I 
do not think that Valdés can be ac- 
counted a Protestant, as he has often 
been ; for although the tone of his 
mind and character is eminently spir- 
itual, and although his opinions are 
full of temperance and wisdom, still 
his admiration for the Emperor is un- 
bounded and his submission to the Pope 
and the Church complete. The charm 
of both the Dialogues, therefore, con- 
sists in their pure and spirited style, 
their point and humor, and their exhi- 
bition, by quaint details and remark- 
able facts, of the very form and pressure 
of the extraordinary times to which 
they relate. They were prepared and 
published anew in 1850, without date 
of place, but I suppose in Madrid, by 
the same person who in 1860 prepared 
and edited the ‘‘Dialogo de la Lengua.” 


Cuar. V.] THE SPANISH LANGUAGE. 25 


Fifth; a circumstance of consequence to the condition 
of the literature, and one to which we therefore turn 
with interest. 

As might be expected, we find, when we look back, 
that the language of letters in Spain has made material 
progress since we last noticed it in the reign of John 
the Second. The example of Juan de Mena had been 
followed, and the national vocabulary had been en- 
riched during the interval of a century, by successive 
poets, from the languages of classical antiquity. From 
other sources, too, and through other channels, im- 
portant contributions had flowed in. From America 
and its commerce had come the names of those produc- 
tions which half a century of intercourse had brought 
to Spain, and rendered familiar there,— terms few, 
indeed, in number, but of daily use.” From Germany 
and the Low Countries still more had been introduced 
by the accession of Charles the Fifth, who, to the 
great annoyance of his Spanish subjects, arrived in 
Spain surrounded by foreign courtiers, and speaking 
with a stranger accent the language of the country he 
was called to govern.” A few words, too, had come acci- 


For what relates to the brothers 
Valdés, see the editions of the ‘‘ Ciento 
y Diez Consideraciones,” 1855 and 1863, 
the edition of the ‘‘ Alfabeto Chris- 
tiano,” 1861, that of the ‘‘ Didlogo de 
la Lengua,” 1860, and that of the ‘Dos 
Dialogos,” 1850, —all, I suppose, print- 
ed in Madrid, though not all so desig- 
nated by their editors, Don Luis de 
Usoz y Rio and Benjamin B. Wiffen, 
a Quaker gentleman living near Bed- 
ford, and brother of the translator of 
Garcilasso de la Vega. See, also, the 
interesting discussion relating to the 
brothers Valdés in M. Young's ‘ Life 
and Times of Aonio Paleario,” London, 
1860, 8vo, Vol. I. pp. 201-238 and 
547 —551. 

A Life of Juan de Valdés, containing 
everything that can probably be known 


of him, was written by Friend Wiffen 
and published in London in 1865; but 
I had not the benefit of it when the 
preceding remarks were prepared, as 
that was a year earlier. Indeed, though 
the Life by Wiffen contains much that 
is important about the political and 
religious character of Valdés, I found 
nothing in it to add to my notice of 
him as a man of letters. 

45 Mayans y Siscar, Origenes, Tom. 


I P: 97. 
S Tbid., p. 98. 

47 Sandoval says that Charles V. suf- 
fered greatly in the opinion of the Span- 
iards, on his first arrival in Spain, be- 
cause, owing to his inability to speak 
Spanish, they had hardly any proper 
intercourse with him. It was, he adds, 
as if they could not talk with him at 


26 THE SPANISH LANGUAGE. [Pertop II. 


dentally from France; and now, in the reign of Philip 
the Second, a great number, amounting to the most 
considerable infusion the language had received since 
the time of the Arabs, were brought in through the 
intimate connection of Spain with Italy and the in- 
creasing influence of Italian letters and Italian cul- 
ture.* 

*We may therefore consider that the Spanish 
. language at this period was not only formed, 
but that it had reached substantially its full pro- 
portions, and had received all its essential charac- 
teristics. Indeed, it had already for half a century 
been regularly cared for and cultivated. Alonso de 
Palencia, who had long been in the service of his coun- 
try as an ambassador, and was afterwards its chroni- 
cler, published a Latin and Spanish Dictionary in 1490; 
the oldest in which Castilian definitions and etymolo- 
gies are to be found.” This was succeeded, two years 
later, by the first Castilian Grammar, the work of An- 


ger 


all. Historia, Anvers, 1681, folio, Tom. 
I. p. 141. When he undertook to hear 
causes in chancery he found himself 
still more uncomfortably situated. (Ar- 
gensola, Anales de Aragon, Zaragoza, 
1630, folio, Tom. I. p. 441.) The Cor- 
tes, perhaps, remembered this when 
Philip II. came to the throne, and they 
made it their very first petition to him 
to live always in Spain. Capitulos y 
Leyes, Cortes de Valladolid, Valladolid, 
1668 Pick 

48 Mayans y Siscar, Origenes, Tom. 
II. pp. 127-133. The author of the 
Dialogo urges the introduction of a con- 
siderable number of words from the 
Italian, such as discurso, facilitar, fan- 
tasta, novela, etc., which have long 
since been adopted and fully recognized 
by the Academy. Diego de Mendoza, 
though partly of the Italian school, ob- 
jected to the word centinela as a need- 
less Italianism ; but it was soon fully 
received into the language. (Guerra 
de Granada, ed. 1776, Lib. III. c¢. 7, 


p. 176.) A little later, Luis Velez de 
Guevara, in Tranco X. of his ‘‘ Diablo 
Cojuelo,” denied citizenship to fulgor, 
purpurear, pompa, and other words now 
in good use. So, too, Figueroa (in his 
Pasagero, 1617, f. 85. b) complains of 
the additions to the Spanish of his 
time: ‘‘Se han ido poco a poco con- 
virtiendo en propios muchos meramente 
Latinos, como repulsa, idoneo, lustro, 
prole, posteridad, astro, y otros sin nu- 
mero.” But all he enumerates are now 
recognized Castilian. Gayangos cites 
Francisco Nunez de Velasco, in his 
‘*Didlogos de Contencion entre la mili- 
cia y la ciencia,” as complaining that 
Italian words and phrases were intro- 
duced needlessly into the Castilian. 
But Nufiez reckons Estala (stable) and 
Estival (boot) among them, not know- 
ing they are Teutonic. (Spanish Trans- 
lation, II. 513.) 

49 Mendez, Typographia, p.175. An- 
tonio, Bib. Vetus, ed. Bayer, Tom. II. 
p. 333. 


wie 


Cuar. V.] THE SPANISH LANGUAGE. ae 


tonio de Lebrixa, who had before published a Latin 
Grammar in the Latin language, and translated it for 
the benefit, as he tells us, of the ladies of the court.” 
Other similar and equally successful attempts followed. 
A purely Spanish Dictionary by Lebrixa, the first of its 
kind, appeared in 1492, and a Dictionary for ecclesias- 
tical purposes, in both Latin and Spanish, by Santa 
Ella, succeeded it in 1499; both often reprinted after- 
wards, and long regarded as standard authorities.” 
All these works, so important for the consolidation of 
the language, and so well constructed that successors 
to them were not found till above a century later,” 
were, it should be observed, produced under the direct 
and personal patronage of Queen Isabella, who, in this, 
as In so many other ways, gave proof at once 
of her far-sightedness in affairs of * state, and *23 
of her wise tastes and preferences in whatever 
regarded the intellectual cultivation of her subjects.” 
The language thus formed was now fast spreading 
throughout the kingdom, and displacing dialects some 
of which, as old as itself, had seemed, at one period, 
destined to surpass it in cultivation and general preva- 
lence. The ancient Galician, in which Alfonso the 
Wise was educated, and in which he sometimes wrote, 
was now known as a polite language only in Portugal, 
where it had risen to be so independent of the stock 
from which it sprang as almost to disavow its origin. 
The Valencian and Catalonian, those kindred dialects 
of the Provengal race, whose influences in the thir- 


5° Mendez, Typog., pp. 239-242. 62 The Grammar of Juan de Navi- 


For the great merits of Antonio de Le- 
brixa, in relation to the Spanish lan- 
guage, see ‘Specimen Bibliothees His- 
pano-Mayansianz ex Museo D. Clemen- 
tis,” Hannovere, 1753, 4to, pp. 4-89. 
51 Mendez, pp. 248 and 212, and An- 
tonio, Bib. Nova, Tom. II. p. 266. 


dad, 1567, is not an exception to this 
remark, because it was intended to 
teach Spanish to Italians, and not to na- 
tives. 

53 Clemencin, in Mem. de la Aca- 
demia de Historia, Tom. VI. p. 472, 
notes. 


28 THE CASTILIAN. [Perron IL. 


teenth century were felt through the whole Peninsula, 
claimed, at this period, something of their earlier dig- 
nity only below the last range of hills on the coast of 
the Mediterranean. The Biscayan alone, unchanged 
as the mountains which sheltered it, still preserved for 
itself the same separate character it had at the earliest 
dawnings of tradition, —a character which has con- 
tinued essentially the same down to our own times. 
But, though the Castilian, advancing with the whole 
authority of the government, which at this time spoke 
to the people of all Spain in no other language, was 
heard and acknowledged throughout the country as 
the language of the state and of all political power, 
still the popular and local habits of four centuries 
could not be at once or entirely broken up. The Gealli- 
cian, the Valencian, and the Catalonian continued to 
be spoken in the age of Charles the Fifth, and are 
spoken now by the masses of the people in their re- 
spective provinces, and to some extent in the refined 
society of each. Even Andalusia and Aragon have not 
yet emancipated themselves completely from their 
original idioms; and, in the same way, each of the 
other grand divisions of the country, several of which 
were at one time independent kingdoms, are still, like 
Estremadura and La Mancha, distinguished by pecu- 
liarities of phraseology and accent.™ 
*24  ™*Castile, alone, and especially Old Castile, 
claims, as of inherited right, from the begin- 
ning of the fifteenth century, the prerogative of speak- 
ing absolutely pure Spanish. Villalobos, it is true, who 
was always a flatterer of royal authority, insisted that 


54 It is curious to observe that the Sarmiento, (Memorias, p. 94,) who wrote 
author of the ‘‘Didlogo de las Lenguas,” about 1760, all speak of the charac- 
(Origenes, Tom. II. p. 31,) who wrote ter of the Castilian and the preva- 
about 1535, — Mayans, (Origines, Tom. _ lence of the dialects in nearly the same 
I. p. 8,) who wrote in 1737,—and_ terms. 


Cuap. V.] 


THE CASTILIAN OF TOLEDO. 29 


this prerogative followed the residences of the sovy- 
ereign and the court;” but the better opinion has 
been that the purest form of the Castilian must be 
sought at Toledo,—the Imperial Toledo, as it was 
called, — peculiarly favored when it was the political 
capital of the ancient monarchy in the time of the 
Goths, and consecrated anew as the ecclesiastical head 
of all Christian Spain, the moment it was rescued from 
the hands of the Moors.® It has even been said that 
the supremacy of this venerable city in the purity of 
its dialect was so fully settled, from the first appear- 
ance of the language, as the language of the state in 
the thirteenth century, that Alfonso the Wise, in a 
Cortes held there, directed the meaning of any dis- 
puted word to be settled by its use at Toledo.” But, 
however this may be, there is no question that, from 
the time of Charles the Fifth to the present day, the 
Toledan has been considered, on the whole, the 

normal form of the national * language, and * 25 
that, from the same period, the Castilian dia- 


55 De las Fiebres Interpoladas, Metro 
I,, Obras, 1543, f. 27. 

56 See Mariana’s account of the glo- 
ries of Toledo, Historia, Lib. XVI. c. 
15, and elsewhere. He was himself 
from the kingdom of Toledo, and often 
boasts of its renown. Cervantes, in 
Don Quixote, (Parte II. c. 19,) implies 
that the Toledan was aceounted the 
purest Spanish of his time. It still 
claims to be so in ours. 

57 ** Also, at the same Cortes, the 
same King, Don Alfonso X., ordered, 
if thereafter there should be a doubt 
in any part of his kingdom about the 
meaning of any Castilian word, that ref- 
erence thereof should be had to this 
city as to the standard of the Castilian 
tongue, [como a metro de la lengua 
Castellana,] and that they should 
adopt the meaning and definition here 
given to such word, because our tongue 
1s more perfect here than elsewhere.” 


(Francisco de Pisa, Descripcion de la 
Imperial Ciudad de Toledo, ed. Thomas 
Tamaio de Vargas, Toledo, 1617, fol., 
Lib. I. c. 36, f. 56.) The Cortes here 
referred to is said by Pisa to have been 
held in 1253 ; in which year the Chron- 
icle of Alfonso X. (Valladolid, 1554, 
fol., c. 2) represents the king to have 
been there. (See, also, Paton, Elo- 
quencia Espafiola, 1604, f. 12.) 

A similar legal as well as traditional 
claim for the supremacy of the Toledan 
dialect is set up in the ‘‘ Historia de 
Tobias,” a poem by Caudivilla Santaren, 
1615, Canto XI., where, speaking of 
Toledo, he says : — 


Entre otros muchos bienes y favores 

Quel soberano Dios hizo a esta gente 
Fue darle la facundia y los primores 

De hablar su Castellano castamente. 
Y assi por justa ley de Emperadores, 

Se orden}, que, si alguno, estando ausente, 
Sobre qualquier vocablo porfiasse, 
Quel que se usa en Toledo guardasse. ‘ 

» & 


30 


THE CASTILIAN OF TOLEDO. 


[PERtop IT. 


lect, having vindicated for itself an absolute suprem- 
acy over all the other dialects of the monarchy, has 
been the only one recognized as the language of the 
classical poetry and prose of the whole country.™ 


58 From the time of Charles V., too, 
and as a natural result of his conquests 
and influence throughout Europe, the 
Spanish language became known and 
admired abroad, as it had never been 
before. Marguerite de Valois, sister of 
Francis I., who went, in 1525, to Ma- 
drid and consoled her brother in his 
captivity there, says: Le Langage Cas- 
tillan est sans comparaison mieux dé- 
clarant cette passion d’amour que n'est 
le Francois (Heptaméron, Journée IIL., 
Nouvelle 24, ed. Paris, 1615, p. 263). 
And Domenichi, in Ulloa’s translation 
of his Razonamiento de Empresas Mili- 
tares, (Leon. de Francia, 1561, 4to, p. 
175,) says of the Spanish, ‘‘ Es lengua 


muy comun a todas naciones,” —a 
striking fact for an Italian to mention. 
Richelieu liked to write in Spanish 
(Havemann, p. 312). The marriage 
of Philip IJ. with Mary Tudor carried 
the Spanish to the English Court, where 
for a time it had some vogue, and Charles 
himself, as Emperor, spread it through 
Germany, as he did, in other ways and 
from other similar influences, through 
Flanders and Italy. Other curious facts 
of the same sort, showing the spread 
of Spanish in Italy and France about 
the middle of the sixteenth century, 
may be found in the Prologo to Paton’s 
Eloquencia Espafiola, 1604, pp. 7, 


sqq- 


* CHA PIP eevee * 26 


CHRONICLING PERIOD GONE BY.—CHARLES THE FIFTH. — GUEVARA. — OCAM- 
PO. — SEPULVEDA. — MEXIA. — ACCOUNTS OF THE NEW WORLD. — CORTES. 
— GOMARA.— BERNAL DIAZ.—OVIEDO. —LAS CASAS. — VACA. — XEREZ. — 
CARATE. 


Ar the beginning of the sixteenth century, it is 
obvious that the age for chronicles had gone by in 
Spain.t Still it was thought for the dignity of the 
monarchy that the stately forms of the elder time 
should, in this as in other particulars, be kept up by 
public authority. Charles the Fifth, therefore, as if 
his ambitious projects as a conqueror were to find their 
counterpart in his arrangements for recording their 
success, had several authorized chroniclers, all men of 
consideration and learning. But the shadow on the 
dial would not go back at the royal command. The 
greatest monarch of his time could appoint chron- 
iclers, but he could not give them the spirit of an 
age that was past. The chronicles he demanded 
at their hands were either never undertaken or never 
finished. Antonio de Guevara, one of the persons to 
whom these duties were assigned, seems to have been 
singularly conscientious in the devotion of his time to 
them ; for we are told that, by his will, he ordered the 


1 One proof that the age of chroni- lioteca de Autores Espaiioles, 1855. It 


cling was gone by may be found in the 
burlesque chronicle of a court-fool, in 
the early part of the reign of Charles 
V., entitled ‘*‘Crdénica de Don Fran- 
cesillo de Zufiga, criado privado bien- 
quisto y predicador del Emperador Car- 
los V. dirigida a su Majestad por el 
mismo Don Francés.” It was first 


published in Vol. XXXVI. of the Bib- 


was no fool that wrote it, nor the few 
letters that follow, though he bore that 
title at court, and enjoyed its privi- 
leges. The style is easy and the lan- 
guage pure, but there is less finish than 
wit in it,,and more sense than histori- 
cal facts. It is what its title implies, 
a caricature of the chronicling style 
then. going out of fashion. 


32 [Periop II. 


FLORIAN DE OCAMPO. 
salary of one year, during which he had written noth- 
ing of his task, to be returned to the Imperial treas- 
ury. This, however, did not imply that he was 
* 27 a successful * chronicler. What he wrote was 
not thought worthy of being published by 
his contemporaries, and would probably be judged no 
more favorably by the present generation, unless it 
discovered a greater regard for historical truth, and a 
simpler style, than are found in his discussions on the 
life and character of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.’ 
Florian de Ocampo, another of the more distin- 
guished of the chroniclers, showed a wide ambition in 
the plan he proposed to himself; beginning his chroni- 
cles of Charles the Fifth as far back as the days 
of Noah’s flood. As might have been foreseen, he 
lived only so long as to finish a small fragment of his 
vast undertaking ; — hardly a quarter part of the first 
of its four grand divisions But he went far enough 
to show how completely the age for such writing was 
passed away.’ Not that he failed in credulity ; for of 
that he had more than enough. It was not, however, 
the poetical credulity of his predecessors, trusting to 
the old national traditions, but an easy faith, that 
believed in the wearisome forgeries called the works 
of Berosus and Manetho,’ which had been discredited 
from their first appearance half a century before, and 


2 Antonio, Bib. Nov., Tom. I. p. 127, 


and Preface to Epistolas Familiares of | 


Guevara, ed. 1673. 

3 See the vituperative article Gue- 
vara, in Bayle. 

4 The best life of Ocampo 1s to be 
found in the ‘‘ Biblioteca de los Escri- 
tores que han sido Individuuos de los 
Seis Colegios Mayores,” etc., por Don 
Josef de Rezabal y Ugarte (pp. 233 - 
238) ; but there is one prefixed to the 
edition of his Crénica, 1791. 

5 The first edition of the first four 
books of the Chronicle of Ocampo was 


published at Zamora, 1544, in a beau- 
tiful black-letter folio, and was followed 
by an edition of the whole at Medina 
del Campo, 1553, folio. The best, I 
suppose, is the one published at Ma- 
drid, 1791, in 2 vols. 4to. 

6 For this miserable forgery see Nice- 
ron (Hommes Illustres, Paris, 1730, 
Tom. XI. pp. 1-11; Tom. XX. 17382, 
pp. 1-6); and for the simplicity of 
Ocampo in trusting to it, see the last 
chapter of his first book, and all the 
passages where he cites Juan de Viterbo 
y su Beroso, etc. 


Cuar. VI.] SEPULVEDA, MEXIA. 33 


yet were now used by Ocampo as if they were the 
probable, if not the sufficient records of an uninter- 
rupted succession of Spanish kings from Tubal, a 
grandson of Noah. Such a credulity has no charm 
about it. But, besides this, the work of Ocampo, in its 
very structure, is dry and absurd; and, being written 
in a formal and heavy style, it is all but impossible 
to read it. He died in 1555, the year the Emperor 
abdicated, leaving us little occasion to regret 

that *he had brought his annals of Spain no *28 
lower down than the age of the Scipios.' 

Juan Ginez de Septilveda was also charged by the 
Emperor fitly to record the events of his reign;* and 
so was Pero Mexia;°® but the history of the former, 
which was first published by the Academy in 1780, is 
in Latin, while that of Mexia, written, apparently, 
after 1545, and coming down to the coronation at 


Bologna, has been published only in part.” 


7 The Cortes of Valladolid, 1555, in 
their ‘‘ Peticiones” exxvili and cxxix, 
ask a pension for Ocampo, and say that 
he was then fifty-five years old, and 
had been chronicler from 1539. (See 
‘*Capitulos y Leyes,”’ Valladolid, folio, 
1558, f. lxi.) 

8 Pero Mexia, in the concluding words 
of his ‘‘ Historia Imperial y Cesarea.” 
Sepulveda, who lived twenty-two years 
in Italy, and was almost as much of an 
Italian as a Spaniard, died in 1578, ext. 
83, at a country house in the Sierra 
Morena, which he describes very pleas- 
antly in one of his unpublished letters. 
(See Alcedo, Biblioteca Americana, ad 
verb. Gines de Sepulveda, MS.) It 
may not be amiss to add that Sepul- 
veda’s Latin style is very agreeable. 

® Capmany, Eloquencia Espafiola, 
Tom. Il. p. 295. 

10 [ say ‘‘apparently,” because, in 
his ‘‘ Historia Imperial y Cesarea,” he 
declares, speaking of the achievements 
of Charles V., ‘‘I never was so pre- 
sumptuous as to deem myself sufficient 
to record them.” This was in 1546. 


VOL. II. 3 


A larger 


He was not appointed Historiographer 
till 1548. See notices of him by Pa- 
checo, in the Semanario Pintoresco, 
1844, p. 406. He died in 1552. The 
History of the Emperor, which breaks 
off with Book V., is among the MSS. 
in the National Library at Madrid, and 
the second Book of it, relating to the 
war of the Comunidades in Castile, may 
be found in the Bib. de Autores Es- 
paiioles (Tom. XXI., 1852). The whole 
is much praised by Ferrer del Rio for 
its skilful arrangement and pure and 
dignified style, and ought to be pub- 
lished ; but the portion given to us is 
outrageously loyal. 

From the time of Charles V. there 
seem generally to have been chroniclers 
of the kingdom and occasionally chron- 
iclers of the personal history of its 
kings. At any rate, that monarch had 
Ocampo and Garibay for the first pur- 
pose, and Guevara, Sepulveda, and 
Mexia for the second. Lorengo de 
Padilla, Archdeacon of Malaga, is also 
mentioned by Dormer (Progresos, Lib. 
II. c. 2) as one of his chroniclers. In- 


34 FERNANDO CORTES. [Perrop II. 


history, however, by the last author, consisting of the 
lives of all the Roman Emperors from Julius Ceesar to 
Maximilian of Austria, the predecessor of Charles the 
Fifth, which was printed several times, and is spoken 
of as an introduction to his Chronicle, shows, notwith- 
standing its many imperfections of style, that his pur- 
pose was to write a true and well-digested history, 
since he generally refers, under each reign, to the 
authorities on which he relies.” 

Such works as these prove to us that we have 
reached the final limit of the old chronicling style, and 

that we must now look for the appearance 
*29 of the different forms of *regular historical 

composition in Spanish literature. But, before 
we approach them, we must pause a moment on a few 
histories and accounts of the New World, which, dur- 
ing the reign of Charles the Fifth, were of more im- 
portance than the imperfect chronicles we have just 
noticed of the Spanish empire in Europe. For as soon 
as the adventurers that followed Columbus were landed 
on the western shores of the Atlantic, we begin to 
find narratives, more or less ample, of their discoveries 
and settlements: some written with spirit, and even 
in good taste ; others quite unattractive in their style ; 
but nearly all interesting from their subject and theit 
materials, if from nothing else. 

In the foreground of this picturesque group stands, 
as the most brilliant of its figures, Fernando Cortés, 
called, by way of eminence, H7 Conquistador, the Con- 
queror. He was born of noble parentage, and carefully 
bred; and though his fiery spirit drove him from 


deed, it does not seem easy to deter- i The first edition appeared in 1545. 
mine how many enjoyed the honor of The one I use is of Anvers, 1561, fol. 
that title. Porretio says Philip II. The best notice of his life, perhaps, is 
was too modest to have a chronicler. the article about him in the Biographie 
Dichos, etc., 1666, p. 130. Universelle. 


Cuap. VI.] FERNANDO CORTES. 85 


Salamanca before his education could be completed, 
and brought him to the New World, in 1504, when he 
was hardly nineteen years old,” still the nurture of his 
youth, so much better than that of most of the other 
American adventurers, is apparent in his voluminous 
documents and letters, both published and unpublished. 
Of these, the most remarkable were, no doubt, four or 
five long and detailed Reports to the Emperor on the 
affairs of Mexico; the first of which was dated, it is 
said, in 1519, and the last in 1526.% The four 

known to be his are well written, and *have a * 30 
business-like air about them, as well as a clear- 

ness and good taste, which remind us sometimes of the 
“Relazioni” of Machiavelli, and sometimes of Cezesar’s 
Commentaries. His letters, on the other hand, are 
occasionally more ornamented. In an unpublished 
one, written about 1533, and in which, when his for- 
tunes were waning, he sets forth his services and his 


% He left Salamanca two or three and very ill arranged. Barcia was a 


years before he came to the New World; 
but old Bernal Diaz, who knew him 
well, says: ‘‘ He was a scholar, and I 
have heard it said he was a Bachelor of 
Laws; and when he talked with law- 
yers and scholars, he answered in Latin. 
He was somewhat of a poet, and made 
coplas in metre and in prose, [en metro 
y en prosa,]” etc. (Conquista, 1632, 
c. 203.) 1t would be amusing to see 
poems by Cortés, and especially what 
the rude old chronicler calls coplas en 
prosa; but he knew about as much 
concerning such matters as Mons. Jour- 
dain. Cortés, however, was always 
fond of the society of cultivated men. 
In his house at Madrid, (see ante, p. 11, 
n. 21,) after his return from America, 
was held one of those Academias which 
were then beginning to be imitated from 
Italy. 

18 The printed ‘‘ Relaciones” may be 
found in Barcia, ‘‘ Historiadores Primi- 
tivos de las Indias Occidentales,” (Ma- 
drid, 1749, 3 tom., folio,)—a collec- 
tion published after its editor’s death, 


man of literary distinction, much em- 
ployed in affairs of state, and one of the 
founders of the Spanish Academy. He 
died in 1748. (Baena, Hijos de Ma- 
drid, Tom. I. p. 106.) For the last 
and unpublished ‘‘ Relacion”’ of Cortés, 
as well as for his unpublished letters, I 
am indebted to my friend Mr. Prescott, 
who has so well used them in his ‘‘ Con- 
quest of Mexico.” 

Since this note was first published, 
(1849,) the last Redaction has been print- 
ed, (Bib. de Autores Espaiioles, Tom. 
XXII. 1852,) and is found to be dated 
September 3, 1526. A letter from the 
‘* Justicia y Regimiento” of Vera Cruz, 
dated July 10, 1519, is prefixed to this 
series of four, as if it were itself the 
first Relacion ; and perhaps it may thus 
have given rise originally to the idea 
that a Relacion of Cortés was lost, when 
it was never written. It seems to me 
likely that there never were but four 
by Cortés himself, although the one by 
the Justicia, 1519, is of similar charac- 
ter and authority. 


36 GOMARA. [Perron II. 


wrongs, he pleases himself with telling the Emperor 
that he “keeps two of his Majesty’s letters like holy 
relics,’ adding that “the favors of his Majesty towards 
him had been quite too ample for so small a vase ”’ ; — 
courtly and graceful phrases, such as are not found in 
the documents of his later years, when, disappointed 
and disgusted with affairs and with the court, he re- 
tired to a morose solitude, where he died in 1554, 
little consoled by his rank, his wealth, or his glory. 
The marvellous achievements of Cortés in Mexico, 
however, were more fully, if not more accurately, 
recorded by Francisco Lopez de Gomara, — the oldest 
of the regular historians of the New World," — who 
was born at Seville in 1510, and was, for some time, 
Professor of Rhetoric at Alcala. His early life, spent 
in the great mart of American adventurers, seems to 
have given him an interest in them and a knowledge 
of their affairs, which led him to write their history ; 
and a residence in Italy, to which he refers more than 
once, and during which, in Venice and Bologna, he 
became familiar with such remarkable men as Saxo 
Grammaticus and Olaus Magnus, enlarged his knowl- 
edge beyond the common reach of Spanish scholars of 
his time, and fitted him better for his task than he 
could have been fitted at home. The works he pro- 
duced, besides one or two of less consequence, 

*31 *were, first, his “History of the Indies,” which, 
after the Spanish fashion, begins with the crea- 

tion of the world, and ends with the glories of Spain, 
though it is chiefly devoted to Columbus and the dis- 
covery and conquest of Peru; and, second, his “ Chron- 
icle of New Spain,” which is, in truth, merely the His- 


14 «The first worthy of being so called,” says Muiioz, Hist. del Nuevo Mundo, 
Madrid, 1798, folio, p. xviii. 


Cuar. VI] GOMARA, BERNAL DIAZ. 37 


tory and Life of Cortés, and which, with this more 
appropriate title, was reprinted by Bustamante, in 
Mexico, in 1826." As the earliest records that were 
published concerning affairs which already stirred the 
whole of Christendom, these works had, at once, a 
great success, passing through two editions almost 
immediately, and being soon translated into French, 
English, and Italian. 

But, though Gomara’s style is easy and flowing, 
both in his mere narration and in those parts of his 
works which so amply describe the resources of the 
newly discovered countries, he did not succeed in 
producing anything of permanent authority. He was 
the secretary of Cortés, and was misled by information 
received from him, and from other persons, who were 
too much a part of the story they undertook to relate 
to tell it fairly.” His mistakes, in consequence, are 
great and frequent, and were exposed with much zeal 
by Bernal Diaz, an old soldier, who, having already 
been twice to the New World, went with Cortés to 
Mexico in 1519,” and fought there so often and 


15 The two works of Gomara may be 
well consulted in Barcia, ‘‘ Historia- 
dores Primitivos,” Tom. II., which they 
fill, and in Vol. XXII. of the Biblio- 
teca of Ribadeneyra. They were first 
printed in 1552, 1553, and 1554; and 
though, as Antonio says, (Bib. Nov., 
Tom. I. p. 437,) they were at once for- 
bidden to be either reprinted or read, 
four editions of them appeared before 
the end of the century. They were 
also translated into English, Italian, 
and French, and printed several times 
in each language. 

16 “About this first going of Cortés 
as captain on this expedition, the eccle- 
siastic Gomara tells many things grossly 
untrue in his history, as might be ex- 
pected from a man who neither saw nor 
heard anything about them, except 
what Fernando Cortés told him and 
gave him in writing; Gomara being 


his chaplain and servant, after he was 
made Marquis and returned to Spain 
the last time.” Las Casas, (Historia 
de las Indias, Parte III. c. 113, MS.,) 
a prejudiced witness, but, on a point of 
fact within his own knowledge, one to 
be believed. 

W See ‘‘ Historia Verdadera de la 
Conquista de la Nueva Espafia, por el 
Capitan Bernal Diaz del Castillo, uno 
de los Conquistadores,” Madrid, 1632, 
folio, cap. 211. It was prepared for 
publication by Alfonso Ramon, or Re- 
mon, who wrote the History of the 
Order of Mercy and many other works, 
including dramas. Conf. N. Ant., Bib. 
Nov., Tom. I. p. 42. But his edition 
(1632) does not seem to have been 
printed from a complete manuscript, 
and the more recent one of Cano, in 
four volumes, is mutilated from that 
of 1632. But it is veprinted in Riba- 


38 BERNAL DIAZ, OVIEDO. [Peniop II. 


*32 so *long, that, many years afterwards, he de- 

clared he could not sleep in any tolerable com- 
fort without his armor. As soon as he read the 
accounts of Gomara, which, in his opinion, gave too 
much honor to Cortés and too little to Cortés’s com- 
panions and captains, he set himself sturdily at work 
to answer them, and in 1568 completed his task.” 
The book he thus produced is written with much gar- 
rulity, and runs, in a rude style, into wearisome details ; 
but it is full of the zealous and honest nationality 
of the old chronicles, so that while we are reading it 
'-we seem to be carried back into the preceding ages, 
and to be again in the midst of a sort of fervor and 
faith which, in writers like Gomara and Cortés, we feel 
sure we are fast leaving behind us. 

Among the persons who early came to America, and 
have left important records of their adventures and 
times, one of the most considerable was Gonzalo Fer- 
nandez de Oviedo y Valdés. He was born at Madrid, 
in 1478,” and, having been well educated at the court 
of Ferdinand and Isabella, as one of the mozos de 
camara of Prince John, was sent out in 1513 as a super- 
visor of gold-smeltings, to Tierra Firme,” where, except 


deneyra’s Biblioteca, Vol. XXVI., 1853, 
with a good prefatory notice by Don 
Enrique de Vedia, doing justice to the 
brave old chronicler, who never re- 
turned to Spain, and died very old at 
Guatemala. 

18 He says he was in one hundred 
and nineteen battles, (f. 254, b,) — that 
‘is, I suppose, fights of all kinds, — 
and that, of the five hundred and fifty 
who went with him to Mexico in 1519, 
five were living when he wrote at Gua- 
‘temala, in 1568, f. 250, a. 

19 It was dedicated to Philip IV. 
‘Some of its details are quite amusing. 
He gives even a list of the individual 
horses that were used on the great ex- 
‘pedition of Cortés, and often describes 
the separate qualities of a favorite 


charger as carefully as he does those 
of his rider. His accuracy, however, 
—pbating accidents from the lapse of 
time, —is remarkable. Sayas (Anales 
de Aragon, 1667, c. 30, p. 218) bears 
witness to it, and is a good authority. 

20 «Vo naci afio de 1478,” he says, 
in his ‘‘ Quinquagenas,”’ when noticing 
Pedro Fernandez de Cordoba; and he 
more than once speaks of himself as a 
native of Madrid. He says, too, ex- 
pressly, that he was present at the sur- 
render of Granada, and that he saw 
Columbus at Barcelona, on his first 
return from America, in 1493. Quin- 
Si Pie MS. 

21 ‘*Veedor de las Fundiciones de 
Oro,” he describes himself in the Proe- 
mio of his work presented to Charles 


Cuar. VI.] GONZALO FERNANDEZ DE OVIEDO. 89 


occasional visits to Spain and to different Spanish pos- 
sessions in America, he lived nearly forty years, de- 
voted to the affairs of the New World. Oviedo 
seems, from his youth, to have had a passion for 
knowing remarkable persons as well as for writing 
about them; and, besides several less considera- 

ble * works, among which were imperfect chron- * 33 
icles of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of Charles 

the Fifth, and a life of Cardinal Ximenes,” he prepared 
two of no small value. 

The most important of these two is the “General 
and Natural History of the Indies,” filling fifty books, 
of which the first portions, embracing twenty-one, were 
published in 1535. As early as 1525, when he was at 
Toledo, and offered Charles the Fifth a summary of 
the History of the Spanish Conquests in the New 
World, which was published three years later, he 
speaks of his desire to have his larger work printed. 
But it appears, from the beginning of the thirty- 
third book and the end of the thirty-fourth, that he 
was still employed upon it in 1547 and 1548; and it is 
not unlikely, from the words with which he concludes 
the thirty-seventh, that he kept each of its larger divis- 
ions open, and continued to make additions to them 
nearly to the time of his death.” 


V., in 1525 (Barcia, Tom. I.); and 
long afterwards, in the opening of Book 
XLVII. of his Historias, MS., he still 
speaks of himself as holding the same 
office. 

22 [ do not feel sure that Antonio is 
not mistaken in ascribing to Oviedo a 
separate life of Cardinal Ximenes, be- 
cause the life contained in the ‘‘ Quin- 
quagenas”’ is soample ; but the Chron- 
icles of Ferdinand and Isabella, and 
Charles V., are alluded to by Oviedo 
himself in the Proemio to Charles V. 
Neither has ever been printed. 

28 He calls it, in his letter to the 


Emperor, at the end of the ‘‘ Sumario,” 
in 1525, ‘‘La General y Natural His- 
toria de las Indias, que de mi mano 
tengo escrita” ;—in the Introduction 
to Lib. XXXIII. he says, ‘‘ En treinta 
y quatro afios que ha que estoy en estas 
partes” ;— and in the ninth chapter, 
which ends Lib. XXXIV., we have an 
event recorded with the date of 1548 ; 
—so that, for these three-and-twenty 
years, he was certainly employed, more 
or less, on this great work. But at the 
end of Book XXXVII. he says, ‘‘ Y 
esto baste quanto a este breve libro del 
numero treinta y siete, hasta que el 


4() 


GONZALO FERNANDEZ DE OVIEDO.  [Psrtop II. 


He tells us that he had the Emperor’s authority 
to demand, from the different governors of Spanish 
America, the documents he might need for his work ;™ 
and, as his divisions of the subject are those which 
naturally arise from its geography, he appears to have 
gone judiciously about his task. But the materials he 

was to use were in too crude a state to be 
*34 easily manageable, and the whole * subject was 

too wide and various for his powers. He falls, 
therefore, into a loose, rambling style, instead of aim- 
ing at philosophical condensation; and, far from an 
abridgment, which his work ought to have been, he 
gives us chronicling, documentary accounts of an im- 
mense extent of newly discovered country, and of the 
extraordinary events that had been passing there, — 
sometimes too short and slight to be satisfactory or 
interesting, and sometimes too detailed for the reader’s 
patience. He was evidently a learned man, and main- 
tained a correspondence with Ramusio, the Italian 
geographer, which could not fail to be useful to both 
parties.” And he was desirous to write in a good and 
eloquent style, in which he sometimes succeeded. He 
has, therefore, on the whole, produced a series of 
accounts of the natural condition, the aboriginal inhab- 
tiempo nos avise de otras cosas que en 


el se acrescientan”’; from which I in- 
fer that he kept each book, or each 


times, by Herrera, Tamayo, Solis, and j 
other writers of distinction. It ceased, 
I believe, with the creation of the Acad- 


large division of his work, open for ad- 
ditions, as long as he lived, and there- 
fore that parts of it may have been 
written as late as 1557. 

24 «“T have royal orders that the gov- 
ernors should send me a relation of 
whatever I shall touch in the affairs 
of their governments for this History.” 
(Lib. XXXIII., Introd., MS.) I ap- 
prehend Oviedo was the first authorized 
Chronicler of the New World ; an office 
which was at one period better paid 
than any other similar office in the 
kingdom, and was held, at different 


emy of History. 

25 «« We owe much to those who give 
us notice of what we have not seen or 
known ourselves; as I am now indebted 
to aremarkable and learned man, of the 
illustrious Senate of Venice, called Sec- 
retary Juan Bautista Ramusio, who, 
hearing that I was inclined to the 
things of which I here treat, has, with- 
out knowing me personally, sought 
me for his friend, and communicated 
with me by letters, sending me a new 
eee etc. (Lib. XXXVIIL., 


Cuap. VI.] 


GONZALO FERNANDEZ DE OVIEDO. 


4] 


itants, and the political affairs, of the wide-spread 
Spanish possessions in America, as they stood in the 
middle of the sixteenth century, which is of great 
value as a vast repository of facts, and not wholly 
without merit as a composition.” 

* The other considerable work of Oviedo, the * 35 


26 As a specimen of his manner I add 
the following account of Almagro, one 
of the early adventurers in Peru, whom 
the Pizarros put to death in Cuzco, 
after they had obtained uncontrolled 
powerthere. ‘‘ Therefore hear and read 
all the authors you may, and compare, 
one by one, whatever they relate, that 
all men, not kings, have freely given 
away, and you shall surely see how 
there is none that can equal Almagro 
in this matter, and how none can be 
compared to him; for kings, indeed, 
may give and know how to give what- 
ever pleaseth them, both cities and 
lands, and lordships, and other great 
gifts ; but that a man whom yesterday 
we saw so poor that all he possessed was 
a very small matter should have a spirit 
sufficient for what I have related, — I 
hold it to be so great a thing that I 
know not the like of it in our own or 
any other time. For I myself saw, 
when his companion, Pizarro, came 
from Spain, and brought with him that 
body ot three hundred men to Panama, 
that, if Almagro had not received them, 
and shown them so much free hospi- 
tality with so generous a spirit, few or 
none of them could have escaped alive ; 
for the land was filled with disease, 
and the means of living were so dear 
that a bushel of maize was worth two 
or three pesos, and an arroba of wine 
six or seven gold pieces. To all of 
them he was a father, and a brother, 
and a true friend ; for, inasmuch as it 
is pleasant and grateful to some men 
to make gain, and to heap up and to 
gather together moneys and estates, 
even so much and more pleasant was it 
to him to share with others and to give 
away ; so that the day when he gave 
nothing he accounted it for a day Tost. 
And in his very face you might see the 
css and true delight he felt when 

e found occasion to help him who had 
need. And since, after so long a fel- 
lowship and friendship as there was be- 
tween these two great leaders, from the 


days when their companions were few 
and their means small, till they saw 
themselves full of wealth and strength, 
there hath at last come forth so much 
discord, scandal, and death, well must 
it appear matter of wonder even to 
those who shall but hear of it, and 
much more to us, who knew them in 
their low estate, and have no less borne 
witness to their greatness and prosper- 
ity.” (General y Natural Historia de 
las Indias, Lib. XLVII., MS.) Much 
of it is, like the preceding passage, in 
the true, old, rambling, moralizing, 
chronicling vein. 

Since the preceding account of the 
‘* Historia General” of Oviedo was 
printed, (1849,) the whole work has 
been published by the Spanish Acad- 
emy of History, in four rich folio vol- 
umes, Madrid, 1851-1855, edited by 
Don José Amador de los Rios. The 
Prefatory notice contains a Life of Ovi- 
edo, with an account of his works, 
among which are two that have been 
published, and should be at least men- 
tioned. The first is ‘‘ Claribalte,” com- 
posed during a period when Oviedo was 
out of favor at court, and printed at 
Valencia in 1519 ;—a book which it is 
singular he should have written, be- 
cause it is a Romance of Chivalry, and, 
in the latter part of his life, when such 
fictions were at the height of their favor, 
nobody treated them with more severity 
than he did. The other is an ascetic 
work, entitled ‘‘Reglas de la Vida,” 
which, he says, he translated from the 
Tuscan, and which was printed at Se- 
ville in 1548, but which is now become 
so rare that Sr. Amador has never seen 
it, and does not determine precisely 
what it was, nor who was its original 
author. Of the works in manuscript, 
which, besides the two Quinquagenas, 
amount to six, we should, I suppose, be 
most curious to see the account Oviedo 
prepared of the occurrences and gossip 
at the court of Madrid during the cap- 
tivity of Francis J., in 1525. 


42 BARTOLEME DE LAS CASAS. [Penton II. 


fruit of his old age, is devoted to fond recollec- 
tions of his native country, and of the distinguished 
men he had known there. He calls it “ Batallas y 
Quinquagenas,” and it consists of a series of dialogues, 
in which, with little method or order; he gives gossip- 
ing accounts of the principal families that figured in 
Spain during the times of Ferdinand and Isabella and 
Charles the Fifth, mingled with anecdotes and recol- 
lections, such as — not without a simple-hearted exhi- 
bition of his own vanity —the memory of his long 
and busy life could furnish. : It appears from the Dia- 
logue on Cardinal Ximenes, and elsewhere, that he 
was employed on it as early as 1545;” but the year 
1550 occurs yet more frequently among the 

* 36 dates of its imaginary conversations,” and it * is 
probable that he continued to add to it, as he 

did to his History, until near the end of his life, for it 
seems still imperfect. He died at Valladolid in 1557. 
But, both during his life, and after his death, Oviedo 
had a formidable adversary, who, pursuing nearly the 
same course of inquiries respecting the New World, 
came almost constantly to conclusions quite opposite. 
This was no less a person than Bartolomé de las 
Casas, or Casaus, the apostle and defender of the Amer- ' 


27 «*Bn este que estamos de 1545.” 
Batallas y Quinquagenas, MS., El Car- 
dinal Cisneros. 

23 As in the Dialogue on Juan de 
Silva, Conde de Cifuentes, he says, 
‘‘En este afio en que estamos 1550” ; 
and in the Dialogue on Mendoza, Duke 
of Infantado, he-uses the same words, 
as he does again in that on Pedro Fer- 
nandez de Cordova. There is an excel- 
lent note on Oviedo in Vol. I. p. 112 
of the American edition of ‘‘ Ferdinand 
and Isabella,” by my friend Mr. Pres- 
cott, to whom I am indebted for the 
manuscript of the Batallas y Quinqua- 
genas, as well as of the Historia. The 


‘* Batallas y Quinquagenas” are not to 
be confounded with a poem which Ovi- 
edo entitled ‘‘ Las Quinquagenas,” on 
the distinguished Spaniards of all times, 
and which he completed in 1556, in one 
hundred and fifty stanzas of fifty lines 
each, or seven thousand five hundred 
lines in all ;—an error into which I 
fell in the first edition of this work, 
owing chiefly to an obscurity in the 
account of the two Quinquagenas by 
Clemencin, in his Zlogio on Queen Isa- 
bella. It is much to be desired that 
both should be published, and we can 
have no accurate idea of them till they 
are. 


Car. VI.] BARTOLEME DE LAS CASAS. 43 





ican Indians,” —a man who would have been remark- 
able in any age of the world, and who does not seem 
yet to have gathered in the full harvest of his honors. 
He was born in Seville, probably in 1474; and, in 
1502, having gone through a course of studies at Sala- 
manca, embarked for the Indies, where his father, who 
had been there with Columbus nine years earlier, had 
already accumulated a decent fortune. 

The attention of the young man was at once drawn 
to the condition of the natives, from the circumstance 
that one of them, given to his father by Columbus, had 
been attached to his own person as a slave, while he 
was still at the University; and he was not slow to 
learn, on his arrival in Hispaniola, that their gentle na- 
tures and slight frames had already been subjected, in 
the mines and in other forms of toil, to a servitude so 
harsh that the original inhabitants of the island were 
rapidly wasting away under the severity of their la- 
bors. From this moment he devoted his life to their 
emancipation. In 1510 he took holy orders, and con- 
tinued as a priest, and, for a short time, as Bishop of 
Chiapa, nearly forty years, to teach, strengthen, and 
console, the suffering flock committed to his charge. 
Six times, at least, he crossed the Atlantic, in order to 
persuade the government of Charles the Fifth to 
ameliorate their condition, and always with 
more or less *success. At last, but not until * 37 
1547, when he was above seventy years old, he 
established himself at Valladolid, in Spain, where he 
passed the remainder of his serene old age, giving it 
freely to the great cause to which he had devoted the 


*9 The family was originally French, Chronicle of John II. its descendants 
spelling its name Casaus; butitappears are called Las Casas, and Fr. Bartolomé 
in Spanish history as early as 1253, in wrote his name both ways. Later they 
the Repartimiento of Seville. (Zutiga, reverted to the original spelling. Gu- 
Anales de Sevilla, 1677, p. 75.) Inthe diel, Familia de los Girones, 1577, f. 98. 


44 BARTOLEME DE LAS 


CASAS. [PeRtop II. 


freshness of his youth. He died, while on a visit of 
business, at Madrid, in 1566, at the advanced age, as is 
commonly supposed, of ninety-two.” 

Among the principal opponents of his benevolence 
were Sepulveda, —one of the leading men of letters 
and casuists of the time in Spain,—and Oviedo, who, 
from his connection with the mines and his share in the 
government of different parts of the newly discovered 
countries, had an interest directly opposite to the one 
Las Casas defended. These two persons, with large 
means and a wide influence to sustain them, intrigued, 
wrote, and toiled against him, in every way in their 
power. But his was not a spirit to be daunted by 
opposition or deluded by sophistry and intrigue; and 
when, in 1519, in a discussion with Septlveda concern- 
ing the Indians, held in the presence of the young and 
proud Emperor Charles the Fifth, Las Casas said, “It is 
quite certain that, speaking with all the respect and 
reverence due to so great a sovereign, I would not, 
save in the way of duty and obedience as a subject, go 
from the place where I now stand to the opposite cor- 
ner of this room, to serve your Majesty, unless I 
believed I should at the same time serve God,’* 


8) There is a valuable life of Las Casas 
in Quintana, ‘‘ Vidas de Espafioles Céle- 
bres” (Madrid, 1833, 12mo, Tom. III. 
pp. 255-510). The seventh article in 


taken by the Portuguese in war and 
rightful slaves. But afterwards he 
changed his mind on the subject. He 
declared ‘‘the captivity of the negroes 


the Appendix, concerning the connec- 
tion of Las Casas with the slave-trade, 
will be read with particular interest ; 
because, by materials drawn from un- 
published documents of unquestionable 
authenticity, it makes it certain that, 
although at one time Las Casas favored 
what had been begun earlier, — the 
transportation, I mean, of negroes to 
the West Indies, in order to relieve the 
Indians, —as other good men in his 
time favored it, he did so under the 
impression that, according to the law 
of nations, the negroes thus brought 
to America were both rightful captives 


to be as unjust as that of the Indians,” 
— ‘ser tan injusto el cautiverio de los 
negros como el de los Indios,” — and 
even expressed a fear that, though he 
had fallen into the error of favoring the 
importation of black slaves into Amer- 
ica from ignorance and good-will, he 
might, after all, fail to stand excused 
for it before the Divine Justice. Quin- 
tana, Lom, ii lspawas ia 

81 Quintana, Espafioles Célebres, Tom. 
III. p. 321. I think, but am not sure, 
that Quintana does not say Las Casas 
was made a chaplain of Charles V. out 
of personal regard ;—a circumstance 


45 


Cuar. VI.] BARTOLEME DE LAS CASAS. 


—when he said this, he uttered a sentiment 

*that really governed his life, and constituted *38 
the basis of the great power he exercised. His 

works are pervaded by it. The earliest of them, called 
“ A very Short Account of the Ruin of the Indies,” was 
written in 1542," and dedicated to the Prince, after- 
wards Philip the Second ;— a tract in which, no doubt, 
the sufferings and wrongs of the Indians are much 
overstated by the indignant zeal of its author, but still 
one whose expositions are founded in truth, and by 
their fervor awakened all Europe to a sense of the in- 
justice they set forth. Other short treatises followed, 
written with similar spirit and power, especially those 
in reply to Sepilveda; but none was so often re- 
printed, either at home or abroad, as the first,® and 
none ever produced so deep and solemn an effect on 
the world. They were all collected and published in 
1552; and, besides being translated into other lan- 
guages at the time, an edition in Spanish, and a French 
version of the whole, with two more treatises than were 
contained in the first collection, appeared at Paris in 


1822, prepared by Llorente. 


mentioned by Argensola, who, it should 
be added, gives a fair and interesting 
account of the Apostle to the Indians, 
so far as his History of Aragon comes 
down. Anales de Aragon, Tom. I. 
1630, p. 547. 

82 Quintana (p. 413, note) doubts 
when this famous treatise was written ; 
but Las Casas himself says, in the 
opening of his ‘‘ Brevisima Relacion,” 
that it was written in 1542, and at 
the end it is noted as finished at Va- 
lencia, December 8, 1542; an ‘‘ Adi- 
cion” or postscript following, which is 
dated 1546 in the copy I use. 

33 This important tract continued 
long to be printed separately, both at 
home and abroad. I use a copy of it 
in double columns, Spanish and Italian, 
Venice, 1643, 12mo ; but, like the rest, 
the ‘‘ Brevisima Relacion”’ may be con- 
sulted in an edition of the Works of 


Las Casas by Llorente, which appeared 
at Paris in 1822, in 2 vols., 8vo, in the 
original Spanish, almost at the same 
time with his translation of them into 
French. It should be noticed, per- 
haps, that Llorente’s version is not al- 
ways strict, and that the two new trea- 
tises he imputes to Las Casas, as well 
as the one on the Authority of Kings, 
are not absolutely proved to be his. 

The translation referred to above ap- 
peared, in fact, the same year, and at 
the end of it an ‘‘Apologie de Las 
Casas,” by Grégoire, with letters of 
Funes and Mier, and notes of Llorente 
to sustain it, —all to defend Las Casas 
on the subject of the slave-trade ; but 
Quintana, as we have seen, has gone to 
the original documents, and leaves no 
doubt, both that Las Casas once favored 
it, and that he altered his mind after- 
wards. 


46 BARTOLEME DE LAS CASAS. 


[Prrrop II. 


The great work of Las Casas, however, still remains 
inedited, — a General History of the Indies from 1492 
to 1520, begun by him in 1527 and finished in 1561, 
but of which he ordered that no portion should be 

published within forty years of his death. 
*39 *lLike his other works, it shows marks of haste 

and carelessness, and is written in a rambling 
style; but its value, notwithstanding his too fervent 
zeal for the Indians, is great. He had been personally 
acquainted with many of the early discoverers and 
conquerors, and at one time possessed the papers of 
Columbus, and a large mass of other important docu- 
ments, which are now lost. He says he had known 
Cortés “when he was so low and humble, that he be- 
sought favor from the meanest servant of Diego Velas-: 
quez’’; and he knew him afterwards, he tells us, when, 
in his pride of place at the court of the Emperor, he 
ventured to jest about the pretty corsair’s part he had 
played in the affairs of Montezuma.* He knew, too, 
Gomara and Oviedo, and gives at large his reasons for 
differing from them. In short, his book, divided into 
three parts, is a great repository, to which Herrera, 
and through him all the historians of the Indies since, 
have resorted for materials; and without which the 
history of the earliest period of the Spanish settle- - 
ments in America cannot even now be properly writ- 
ten.” 

But it is not necessary to go further into an examina- 


84 <¢Todo esto me dixo el mismo Cor- MS.) It may be worth noting, that 


tés con otras cosas cerca dello, despues 
de Marques, en la villa de Moncon, es- 
tando alli celebrando cortes el Empera- 
dor, afio de mil y quinientos y quarenta 
y dos, riendo y mofando con estas for- 
males palabras, a la mi fé andubé por 
alli como un gentil cosario.” (Historia 
General de Jas Indias, Lib. ITT. c. 115, 


1542, the year when Cortés made this 
scandalous speech, was the year in 
which Las Casas wrote his Brevisima 
Relacion. 

85 For a notice of all the works of 
Las Casas, see Quintana, Vidas, Tom. 
III. pp. 507-510. 


Cuar. VI.] VACA, XEREZ, CARATE. 477 


tion of the old accounts of the discovery and conquest 
of Spanish America, though there are many more 
which, like those we have already considered, are 
partly books of travel through countries full of won- 
ders, partly chronicles of adventures as strange as 
those of romance; frequently running into idle and 
loose details, but as frequently fresh, picturesque, and 
manly, in their tone and coloring, and almost always 
striking from the facts they record and the glimpses 
they give of manners and character. Among those 
that might be added are the stories by Vaca of his 
shipwreck and ten years’ captivity in Florida, from 
1527 to 1537, and his subsequent government 

*for three years of the Rio de la Plata;* the * 40 
short account of the conquest of Peru, written by 

Francisco de Xerez, Secretary of Francisco de Pi- 
zarro,” and the ampler one, of the same wild achieve- 
ments, which Augustin de Carate began on the spot, 
and was prevented by Carvajal, an officer of Gonzalo 
de Pizarro, from finishing till after his return home.® 


86 The two works of Alvar Nuftez 
Cabeza de Vaca, namely, his ‘‘ Naufra- 
gios,” and his ‘‘Comentarios y Suce- 
sos de su Gobierno en el Rio de la 
Plata,” were first printed in 1555, and 
are to be found in Barcia, Historiadores 
Primitivos, Tom. I., and in the Biblio- 
teca de Autores Espafioles, Tom. XXII., 
1852. They are wild and romantic ac- 
counts of extraordinary adventures and 
sufferings, particularly the Nawfragios, 
where (Chap. XXII.) the author seems 
to think he not only cured the sick by 
divine interposition, but that, in one 
instance, he raised the dead. But, 
however this may be, he was evidently 
aman of great courage and constancy, 
and of an elevated and generous na- 
ture. 

87 The work of Francisco de Xerez, 
** Conquista del Peru,” written by order 
of Francisco Pizarro, was first published 
in 1534 and 1547, and is to be found in 
Ramusio, (Venezia, ed. Giunti, folio, 


Tom. III.,) and in Barcia’s collection 
(Tom. III.). It ends in Barcia with 
some poor verses in defence of Xerez, 
by a friend, which are ampler and more 
important in the original edition, and 
contain notices of his life. They are 
reprinted in the Biblioteca de Autores 
Espafioles, Tom. XXVI., 18538, and 
Gayangos conjectures them to have 
been written by Oviedo. 

8 <«* Historia del Descubrimiento y 
Conquista del Peru,” first printed in 
1555, and several times since. It is in 
Barcia, Tom. III’, and in the Biblio- 
teca de Autores Espaiioles, Tom. XXVI., 
1853, and was translated into Italian by 
Ulloa. Carate was sent out by Charles 
V. to examine into the state of the 
revenues of Peru, and brings down his 
accounts as late as the overthrow of 
Gonzalo Pizarro. See an excellent no- 
tice of Carate at the end of Mr. Pres- 
cott’s last chapter on the Conquest of 
Peru. 


48 


EARLY ACCOUNTS OF AMERICA. 


[Periop II. 


But they may all be passed over, as of less conse- 
quence than those we have noticed, which are quite 
sufficient to give an idea, both of the nature of their 
class and the course it followed, — a class much resem- 
' bling the old chronicles, but yet one that announces 
the approach of those more regular forms of history 
for which it furnishes abundant materials. 


Pedro Cieza de Leon, also, who lived 
above seventeen years in Peru, pub- 
lished at Seville, in 1553, an important 
work on that country, entitled ‘‘ Pri- 
mera Parte de la Chronica del Peru,” 
intending to complete and publish it 
in three other parts ; but died in 1560, 
reinfecta, at the age of forty-two. The 
first part is reprinted in the Biblioteca 


de Autores Espafioles, Tom. XXVI., 
and the MS. of the third part is said to 
be in the possession of James Lenox, 
Esq., New York. Gayangos notices, 
also, a small publication in eight leaves, 
in the British Museum, entitled La 
Conquista del Peru, which he thinks is 
like a gazette, and may have been the 
first publication on the subject. 


*CHA RTE Rav Ei: ¥* 41 


THEATRE. — INFLUENCE OF THE CHURCH AND THE INQUISITION. — MYSTERIES. 
— CASTILLEJO, OLIVA, JUAN DE PARIS, AND OTHERS. —- POPULAR DEMANDS 
FOR DRAMATIC LITERATURE.— LOPE DE RUEDA.—HIS LIFE, COMEDIAS, 
COLOQUIOS, PASOS, AND DIALOGUES IN VERSE. — HIS CHARACTER AS FOUND- 
ER OF THE POPULAR DRAMA IN SPAIN.—JUAN DE TIMONEDA. 


TuE theatre in Spain, as in most other countries of 
modern Europe, was early called to contend with for- 
midable difficulties. Dramatic representations there, 
perhaps more than elsewhere, had been for centuries in 
the hands of the Church; and the Church was not will- 
ing to give them up, especially for such secular and 
irreligious purposes as we have seen were apparent in 
the plays of Naharro. The Inquisition, therefore, al- 
ready arrogating to itself powers not granted by the 
state, but yielded by a sort of general consent, inter- 
fered betimes. After the publication of the Seville 
edition of the “ Propaladia,” in 1520, — but how soon 
afterward we do not know, —the representation of its 
dramas was forbidden, and the interdict was continued 
till 1573. Of the few pieces written in the early part 
of the reign of Charles the Fifth, nearly all, except 
those on strictly religious subjects, were laid under the 
ban of the Church; several, like the “ Orfea,”’ 1534, 
and the “ Custodia,” 1541, being now known to have 


1573. 


1 In the edition of Madrid, 1573, 
18mo, we are told, ‘‘ La Propaladia 
estava prohibida en estos reynos, afios 
avia”’; and Martinez de la Rosa (Obras, 
Paris, 1827, 12mo, Tom. II. p. 382) says 
that this prohibition was laid soon after 
1520, and not removed till August, 


Vou. IT. 4 


The period is important ; but I 
suspect the authority of Martinez de la 
Rosa, for its termination is merely the 
permission to print an edition, which 
is dated 21st August, 1573; an edi- 
tion, too, which is, after all, expurgated 
severely. 


50 [Periop II. 


THE THEATRE. 
existed only because their names appear in the 
*42 Index Expurgatorius;? and others, *like the 

“Amadis de Gaula” of Gil Vicente, though 
printed and published, being subsequently forbidden 
to be represented.’ 

The old religious drama, meantime, was still upheld 
by ecclesiastical power. Of this we have sufficient 
proof in the titles of the Mysteries that were from 
time to time performed, and in the well-known fact 
that, when, with all the magnificence of the court 
of Charles the Fifth, the infant heir to the crown, 
afterwards Philip the Second, was baptized at Vallado- 
lid, in 1527, five religious plays, one of which was on 
the Baptism of Saint John, constituted a part of the 
gorgeous ceremony. Such compositions, however, did 
not advance the drama, though perhaps some of them, 
like that of Pedro de Altamira, on the Supper at Em- 


maus, are not without poetical merit.° 


On the con- 


trary, their tendency must have been to keep back 


2 These are in the ‘‘ Catalogo” of L. 
F. Moratin, Nos. 57 and 63, Obras, 
Madrid, 1830, 8vo, Tom. I. Parte I. 

8 The fate of this long, heroic, and 
romantic drama of Gil Vicente, in Span- 
ish, is somewhat singular. It was for- 
bidden by the Inquisition, we are told, 
as early as the Index Expurgatorius of 
1549 [1559 2]; but it was not printed 
at all till 1562, and not separately 
till 1586. By the Index of Lisbon, 
1624, itis permitted, if expurgated, and 
there is an edition of it of that year at 
Lisbon. As it was never printed in 
Spain, the prohibition there must have 
related chiefly to its representation. 
Barbosa, Bib. Lusitana, Tom. II. 
p. 384. 

* The account of this ceremony, and 
the facts concerning the dramas in ques- 
tion, are given hy Sandoval, ‘‘ Historia 
de Carlos V.,” (Anvers, 1681, fol., Tom. 
I. p. 619, Lib. XVI. § 13,) and are of 
some consequence in the history of the 
Spanish drama. 


It may also be worth notice that 
when Maximilian II., of Germany, was 
married to Mary, eldest daughter of 
Charles V., at Valladolid, in 1548, 
Philip being present at the festivities, 
and Maximilian having been educated 
in Spain, the theatrical entertainment 
thought preper for the occasion was yet 
one of the comedies of Ariosto, in the 
original, which, we are told, was repre- 
sented ‘‘con todo aquel aparato de the- | 
atro y scenas que los Romanos las solian 
representar, que fue cosa muy real y 
sumptuosa.” (Calvete de Estrella, Viage 
de Phelipe, Hijo del Emperador Carlos 
V., ec. Anveres, folio, 1552, f. 2, b.) 
There can be no doubt, I suppose, that 
a Spanish play would have been se- 
lected, if one suitable could have been 
found for so brilliant a Spanish audi- 
ence, collected on an occasion appeal- 
ing so strongly to national feelings. 

5 It was printed in 1523, and a suffi- 
cient extract from it is to be found in 
Moratin, Catalogo, No. 36. 


Car. VIL] VARIOUS DRAMAS. 51 


theatrical representations within their old religious 
purposes and limits.° 

. * Nor were the efforts made to advance them in 
other directions marked by good judgment or 
permanent success. We pass over the “ Costanza” by 
Castillejo, which seems to have been in the manner of 
Naharro, and is assigned to the year 1522,’ but which, 
from its indecency, was never published in full, and is 
now probably lost ; and we pass over the free versions 
made about 1530, by Perez de Oliva, Rector of the 
University of Salamanca, from the “ Amphitryon ” of 


* 43 


6 A specimen of the Mysteries of the 
age of Charles V. may be found in an 
extremely rare volume, without date, 
entitled, in its three parts, ‘‘ Triaca del 
- Alma,” ‘‘Triaca de Amor,” and *‘ Tri- 
aca de Tristes” ;— or, Medley for the 
Soul, for Love, and for Sadness. Its 
author was Marcelo de Lebrixa, son of 
the famous scholar Antonio ; and the 
dedication and conclusion of the first 
part imply that it was composed when 
the author was forty years old, — after 
the death of his father, which happened 
in 1522, and during the reign of the 
Emperor, which ended in 1556. The 
first part, to which I particularly al- 
lude, consists of a ‘‘ Mystery” on the 
Incarnation, in above eight thousand 
short verses. It has no other action 
than such as consists in the appearance 
of the angel Gabriel to the Madonna, 
bringing Reason with him in the shape 
of a woman, and followed by another 
angel, who leads in the Seven Virtues ; 
— the whole piece being made up out 
of their successive discourses and ex- 
hortations, and ending with a sort of 
summary, by Reason and by the Au- 
thor, in favor of a pious life. Certain- 
ly, so slight a structure, with little 
merit in its verses, could do nothing 
to advance the drama of the sixteenth 
century. It was, however, intended 
for representation. ‘‘It was written,” 
says its author, ‘‘for the praise and 
solemnization of the Festival of Our 
Lady’s Incarnation ; so that it may be 
acted as a play [la puedan por farca 
representar] by devout nuns in their 
convents, since no men appear in it, 
but only angels and young damsels,” 


It should be noted that the word Mys- 
tery, as here used, has sometimes been 
thought to indicate its origin from mi- 
nisterium, because it was performed by 
the ministers of the church, and not 
because it set forth the mysteries of re- 
ligion, according to its accustomed use 
in France, where we have ‘‘ Le Mistére 
de la Passion,” etc. 

The second part of this singular vol- 
ume, which is more poetical than the 
first, is against human and in favor of 
Divine love ; and the third, which is 
very long, consists of a series of conso- 
lations, deemed suitable for the differ- 
ent forms of human sorrow and care ; 
— these two parts being necessarily di- 
dactic in their character. Each of the 
three is addressed to a member of the 
great family of Alva, to which their au- 
thor was attached; and the whole is 
called by him 7riaca ; a word which 
means J'reacle, or Antidote, but which 
Lebrixa says he uses in the sense of 
Ensalada, — Salad, or Medley. The 
volume, taken as a whole, is as strongly 
marked with the spirit of the age that 
produced it as the contemporary Can- 
cioneros Generales, and its poetical merit 
is much like theirs. 

7 Moratin, Catalogo, No. 35, and ante, 
Vol. I. p. 463, n. 6. <A short extract 
from it is given by Moratin ; and Wolf, 
in his tract on Castillejo, (1849, p. 10,) 
says that still more was published in 
1542, under the pseudonyme of Fray 
Nidel ; but Gallardo gives the best ac- 
count of the whole in a letter to Ga- 
yangos, to be found in the Spanish 
translation of this work, Tom. II. 
p. 500. 


52 JUAN DE PARIS. [Perrop II. 


Plautus, the “Electra” of Sophocles, and the “Hecuba” 
of Euripides, because they fell, for the time, powerless 
on the early attempts of the national theatre, which 
had nothing in common with the spirit of antiquity.® 
But a single play, printed in 1536, should be noticed, 
as showing how slowly the drama made progress in 
Spain. 
It is called “ An Kclogue,” and is written by Juan de 
Paris, in versos de arte mayor, or long verses divided into 
stanzas of eight lines each, which show, in their 
*44 careful * construction, not a little labor and art.? 
It has five interlocutors: an esquire, a hermit, 
a young damsel, a demon, and two shepherds. The 
hermit enters first. He seems to be in a meadow, 
musing on the vanity of human life; and, after praying 
devoutly, determines to go and visit another hermit 
But he is prevented by the esquire, who comes in 
weeping and complaining of ill treatment from Cupid, 
whose cruel character he illustrates by his conduct in 
the cases of Medea, the fall of Troy, Priam, David, and 
Hercules ; ending with his own determination to aban- 
don the world and live in a “nook merely monastical.” 
He accosts the hermit, who discourses to him on the 
follies of love, and advises him to take religion and 
works of devotion for a remedy in his sorrows. The 
young man determines to follow counsel so wise, and 
they enter the hermitage together. But they are no 


8 Oliva died in 1533; but his trans- 
lations were not printed till 1585. 
Those from Sophocles, Euripides, and 
Plautus are too free. Montiano praises 
them for their pure style, but Moratin 
rebukes Oliva for his adventurous and 
undramatic alterations. 

9 This extremely curious drama, of 
which a copy was kindly lent to me by 
Mons. H. Ternaux-Compans, of Paris, 
is entitled ‘‘Egloga nuevamente com- 


posta por Juan de Paris, en la qual se 
introducen cinco personas : un Escude- 
ro llamado Estacio, y un Hermitaiio, y 
una Moga, y un Diablo, y dos Pastores, 
uno llamado Vicente y el otro Cremon” 
(1536). It is in black-letter, small 
quarto, 12 leaves, without name of 
place or printer ; but,.I suppose, print- 
ed at Zaragoza, or Medina del Campo. 
Wolf says there is a copy dated 1552 
in the: Munich Library. 


Cuar. VII] JUAN DE PARIS. 53 


sooner gone than the demon appears, complaining bit- 
terly that the esquire is likely to escape him, and deter- 
mining ‘to do all in his power to prevent it. One of 
the shepherds, whose name is Vicente, now comes in, 
and is much shocked by the glimpse he has caught of 
the retiring spirit, who, indeed, from his description, 
and from the woodcut on the title-page, seems to have 
been a truly fantastic and hideous personage. Vicente, 
thereupon hides himself; but the damsel, who is the 
lady-love of the esquire, enters, and, after drawing him 
from his concealment, holds with him a somewhat 
metaphysical dialogue about love. The other shep- 
herd, Cremon, at this difficult point interrupts the dis- 
cussion, and has a rude quarrel with Vicente, which 
the damsel composes; and then Cremon tells her where 
the hermit and the lover she has come to seek are to 
be found. All now go towards the hermitage. The 
esquire, overjoyed, receives the lady with open arms 
and cries out, — 


* But now I abjure this friardom poor, * 45 
And will neither be hermit nor friar any more.? 


The hermit marries them, and determines to go with 
them to their house in the town; and then the whole 
ends somewhat strangely with a villancico, which has 
for its burden, — 


Let us fly, I say, from Love’s power away ; 
"T is a vassalage hard, 
Which gives grief for reward. 


The piece is curious, because it is a wild mixture of 
the spirit of the old Mysteries with that of Juan de la 
Enzina’s Eclogues and the Comedies of Naharro, and 
shows by what awkward means it was attempted to 

10 Agora reniego de mala fraylia, 11 Huyamos de ser vasallos 


Ni quiero hermitaiio ni frayle mas ser. Del Amor, 
Pues por premio da dolor. 


o4 


JAUME DE HUETE. [Prriop II. 
conciliate the Church, and yet amuse an audience 
which had little sympathy with monks and hermits. 
But it has no poetry in it, and very little dramatic 
movement. Of its manner and measure the opening 
stanza is quite a fair specimen. The Hermit enters, 
saying to himself, — 
The suffering life we mortal men below, 

Upon this terrene world, are bound to spend, 

If we but carefully regard its end, 
We find it very full of grief and woe : 
Torments so multiplied, so great, and ever such, 

That but to count an endless reckoning brings, 


While, like the rose that from the rose-tree springs, 
Our life itself fades quickly at their touch.4 


Other attempts followed this, or appeared at just 
about the same time, which approach nearer 

*46 to the example * set by Naharro. One of them, 
called “La Vidriana,’ by Jaume de Huete, is 

on the loves of a gentleman and lady of Aragon, who 
desired the author to represent them dramatically ;* 
and another, by the same hand, is call “La Tesorina,” 
and was afterwards forbidden by the Inquisition. 


12 As another copy of this play can 
be found, I suppose, only by some rare 
accident, I give the original of the pas- 
sage in the text, with its original point- 
ing. It is the opening of the first 
scene : — 

Hermitano. 


La vida pefiosa; que nos los mortales 

En aqueste mundo; terreno passamos 

Si con buen sentido; la consideramos 

Fallar la hemos ; leno de muy duros males 
De tantos tormentos; tan grandes y tales 
Que aver de contallos; es cuento infinita 

Y allende de aquesto; tan presto es marchita 
Como la rosa; qu’ esta en los rosales. 


“‘Una Farca a Manera de Tragedia,” 
in prose and partly pastoral, was printed 
at Valencia, anonymously, in 15387, 
and seems to have resembled this one 
in some particulars. It is mentioned 
in Aribau, ‘‘ Biblioteca de Autores 
Espafioles,” 1846, Tom. II. p. 193, 
note. 

13 ** Comedia llamada Vidriana, com- 
puesta por Jaume de Huete agora nue- 


vamente,” etc., sm. 4to, black-letter, 
eighteen leaves, without year, place, or 
printer. It has ten interlocutors, and 
ends with an apology in Latin, that 
the author cannot write like Mena, — 
Juan de Mena, I suppose, — though I 
know not why he should have been 
selected, as the piece is evidently in 
the manner of Naharro. 

1¢ Another drama from the same vol- 
ume with the last two. Moratin (Cata- 
logo, No. 47) had found it noticed in 
the Index Expurgatorius of Valladolid, 
1559, and assigns it, at a venture, to 
the year 1531, but he never sawit. Its 
title is ‘‘Comedia intitulada Tesorina, 
la materia de la qual es unos amores de 
un penado por una Sefiora y otras per- 
sonas adherentes. Hecha nuevamente 
por Jaume de Huete. Pero si por ser 
su natural lengua Aragonesa, no fuere 
por muy cendrados terminos, quanto a 
este merece perdon.”” Small 4to, black- 
letter, fifteen leaves, no year, place, or 


Car. VIL] ORTIZ. 55 


This last is a direct imitation of Naharro; has an 
introwto ; is divided into five jornadas ; and is written in 
short verses. Indeed, at the end, Naharro is men- 
tioned by name, with much implied admiration on the 
part of the author, who in the title-page announces 
himself as an Aragonese, but of whom we know 
nothing else. And, finally, we have a play in five 
acts, and in the same style, with an zrdito at the 
beginning and a vllancico at the end, by Agostin 
Ortiz,” leaving no * doubt that the manner and * 47 
system of Naharro had at last found imitators in 
Spain, and were fairly recognized there. 

But the popular vein had not yet been struck. Ex- 
cept dramatic exhibitions of a religious character, and 
under ecclesiastical authority, nothing had been at- 
tempted in which the people, as such, had any share. 
The attempt, however, was now made, and made suc- 


printer. It has ten interlocutors, and 
is throughout an imitation of Naharro, 
who is mentioned in some mean Latin 
lines at the end, where the author ex- 
presses the hope that his Muse may be 
tolerated, ‘‘quamvis non Torris digna 
Naharro venit.” 

16 “* Comedia intitulada Radiana, 
compuesta por Agostin Ortiz,” small 
4to, black-letter, twelve leaves, no year, 
place, or printer. It is in five yornadas, 
and has ten personages, —a favorite 
number, apparently. It comes from 
the volume above alluded to, which con- 
tains besides: 1. A poor prose story, 
interspersed with dialogue, on the tale 
of Mirrha, taken chiefly from Ovid. It 
is called ‘‘ La T'ragedia de Mirrha,” and 
its author is the Bachiller Villalon. It 
was printed at Medina del Campo, 1536, 
por Pedro Torans, small 4to, black-let- 
ter. 2. An eclogue somewhat in the 
manner of Juan de la Enzina, for a 
Nacimiento. It is called a Farza, — 
‘‘El Farza siguiente hizo Pero Lopez 
Ranjel,” ete. It is short, filling only 
4 ff., and contains three villancicos. 
On the title-page is a coarse woodcut 
of the manger, with Bethlehem in the 


background. 3. A short, dull farce, 
entitled ‘‘ Jacinta,” —- not the Jacinta 
of Naharro. These three, together with 
the four previously noticed, are known 
to me only in the copy I have used 
from the library of Mons. H. Ternaux- 
Compans. 

A list of sundry rude dramatic works 
in the forms common in Spain in the 
time of Charles V. is given in the Span- 
ish translation of this History, (Tom. 
II. pp. 520-—538,) as an addition to 
the well-known Catalogue of Moratin. 
Among them are the titles of Autos and 
other dramas by the strange and ex- 
travagant Tanco del Frejenal or Frexe- 
nal, (see post, Chap. XXIX., note,) all 
lost and not worth recovering ; two or 
three imitations of Enzina, Naharro, 
and the Celestina ; and the second edi- 
tion, 1552, of a very simple Comedia, 
called ‘*‘Preteo y Tibaldo,” begun by 
Peralvarez de Ayllon, and finished after 
his death by Luis Hurtado, who wrote 
Palmerin of England. Of this last 
Gayangos gives considerable extracts, 
but all of them add nothing material 
to our knowledge of the theatre of the 
time. 


56 


LOPE DE RUEDA. [Periop II. 


cessfully. Its author was a mechanic of Seville, Lope 
de Rueda, a goldbeater by trade, who, from motives 
now entirely unknown, became both a dramatic writer 
and a public actor. The period in which he flourished 
has been supposed to be between 1544 and 1567, 
in which last year he is spoken of as dead; and the 
scene of his adventures is believed to have extended 
to Seville, Cordova, Valencia, Segovia, and probably 
other places, where his plays and farces could be rep- 
resented with profit. At Segovia, we know he acted 
in the new cathedral, during the week of its consecra- 
tion, n 1558; and Cervantes and the unhappy Antonio 
Perez both speak with admiration of his powers as an 
actor, — the first having been twenty years old in 
1567, the period commonly assumed as that of Rueda’s 
death,” and the last having been eighteen. Rueda’s 
success, therefore, even during his lifetime, seems to 
have been remarkable; and when he died, though 
he belonged to the despised and rejected profession 
of the stage, he was interred with honor among the 
mazy pillars in the nave of the great cathedral at 
Cordova." 


*48  ™ His works were collected after his death by 


16 Tt is known that he was certainly 
dead as early as that year, because the 
edition of his ‘*Comedias” then pub- 
lished at Valencia, by his friend Timo- 
neda, contains, at the end of the ‘‘En- 
gafios,” a sonnet on his death by Fran- 
cisco de Ledesma. ‘The last, and, 
indeed, almost the only date we have 
about him, is that of his acting in the 
cathedral at Segovia in 1558 ; of which 
we have a distinct account in the learned 
and elaborate History of Segovia, by 
Diego de Colmenares, (Segovia, 1627, 
fol., p. 516,) where he says that, on a 
stage erected between the choirs, ‘‘ Lope 
de Rueda, a well-known actor [famoso 
comediante] of that age represented an 
entertaining’ play [gustosa comedia].” 


Gayangos says that Timoneda alludes 
to the death of Lope de Rueda, in 1566. 
I suppose he refers, in this remark, to 
the ‘‘ Epistola” prefixed to the edition 
of the Eufemia and Armelina dated 
1567, but with the Censura of October, 
1566. 

17 The well-known passage about 
Lope de Rueda, in Cervantes’s Prologo 
to his own plays, (see post, p. 55,) is of 
more consequence than all the rest that 
remains concerning him. Everything, 
however, is collected in Navarrete, 
‘* Vida de Cervantes,” pp. 255 — 260; 
and in Casiano Pellicer, ‘‘ Origen de la 
Comedia y del Histrionismo en Espafia” 
(Madrid, 1804, 12mo, Tom. II. pp. 
72-84). 


Cuar. VII] LOPE DE RUEDA. 57 


his friend Juan de Timoneda, and published in differ- 
ent editions, between 1567 and 1588.% They consist 
of four Comedias, two Pastoral Colloquies, and ten 
Pasos, or dialogues, all in prose; besides two dia- 
logues in verse. They were all evidently written for 
representation, and were unquestionably acted before 
public audiences, by the strollmg company Lope a 
Rueda led about. 

The four Comedias are merely divided into scenes, 
and extend to the length of a common farce, whose 
spirit they generally share. The first of them, “ Los 
Engaijios,’ ” — Frauds, — contains the story of a daugh- 
ter of Verginio, who has escaped from the convent 
where she was to be educated, and is serving as a page 
to Marcelo, who had once been her lover, and who had 
left her because he believed himself to have been ill 
treated. Clavela, the lady to whom Marcelo now 
devotes himself, falls in love with the fair page, some- 
what as Olivia does in “Twelfth Night,” and this 
brings in several effective scenes and situations. But 
a twin brother of the lady-page returns home, after a 
considerable absence, so like her, that he proves the 
other Sosia, who, first producing great confusion and 
trouble, at last marries Clavela, and leaves his sister to 
her original lover. This is at least a plot; and some 
of its details and portions of the dialogue are ingenious, 
and managed with dramatic skill. 


much consequence. Of the ‘‘ Deley- 


8 «Tas Quatro Comedias y Dos Colo- 
toso,” printed at Valencia, 1567, I 


quios Pastorales del excelente poeta y 


gracioso representante, Lope de Rueda,” 
etc., impresas en Sevilla, 1576, 8vo, — 

contains his principal works, with the 
“Dialogo sobre la Invencion de las 
Calzas que se usan agora.” From the 
Epistola prefixed to it by Juan de Timo- 
neda, I infer that he made alterations 
in the manuscripts, as Lope de Rueda 
left them; but not, probably, any of 


have never been able to see more than 
the very ample extracts given by Mora- 
tin, amounting to six Pasos and a Colo- 
quio. The first edition of the Quatro 
Comedias, etc., was 1567, at Valencia; 
the last at Logrofio, 1588. 

19 In the edition of Valencia by Joan 
Mey, 8vo, 1567, this play is entitled 
**Los Engaiados,” — the cheated. 


58 LOPE DE .RUEDA. [Perron II. 


The next, the “Medora,” is, also, not without a sense 
of what belongs to theatrical composition and effect. 
The interest of the action depends, in a considerable 
degree, on the confusion produced by the resem- 

blance between a young woman stolen when a 
*49 child by * Gypsies, and the heroine, who is her 

twin sister. But there are well-drawn charac- 
ters in it, that stand out in excellent relief, especially 
two: Gargullo, — the “miles gloriosus,’ or Captain 
Bobadil, of the story, — who, by an admirable touch 
of nature, is made to boast of his courage when quite 
alone, as well as when he is in company; and a Gypsy 
woman, who overreaches and robs him at the very 
moment he intends to overreach and rob her.” 

The story of the “ Kufemia” is not unlike that of the 
slandered Imogen, and the character of Melchior Ortiz 
is almost exactly that of the fool in the old English 
drama,—a well-sustaned and amusing mixture of 
simplicity and shrewdness. 

The “ Armelina,” which is the fourth and last of the 
longer pieces of Lope de Rueda, is more bold in its 
dramatic incidents than either of the others.” The 
heroine, a foundling from Hungary, after a series of 
strange incidents, is left in a Spanish village, where she 
is kindly and even delicately brought up by the village 
blacksmith ; while her father, to supply her place, has 
no less kindly brought up in Hungary a natural son of 
this same blacksmith, who had been carried there by 
his unworthy mother. The father of the lady, having 
some‘intimation of where his daughter is to be found, 

2” This is the Rufian of the old Span- 21 It may be worth noticing, that both 
ish dramas and stories, — parcel rowdy, the ‘‘Armelina” and the ‘‘ Eufemia ” 
parcel bully, and wholly knave;—a open with scenes of calling up a lazy 
different personage from the Rufian of young man from bed, in the early morn- 


recent times, who is the elder Alcahuete ing, much like the first in the ‘‘ Nubes” 
or pander. of Aristophanes. 


Cuar. VII] LOPE DE RUEDA. 59 


comes to the Spanish village, bringing his adopted 
son with him. ‘There he advises with a Moorish 
necromancer how he is to proceed in order to regain 
his lost child. The Moor, by a fearful incantation, 
invokes Medea, who actually appears on the stage, 
fresh from the infernal regions, and informs him that 
his daughter is living in the very village where they 
all are. Meanwhile the daughter has seen the youth 
from Hungary, and they are at once in love with 
each other;—t¢he blacksmith, at the same time, 
having decided, with the aid of his wife, to compel her 
to marry a shoemaker, to whom he had before 
promised her. Here, of course, *come troubles * 50 
and confusion. The young lady undertakes to 

cut them short, at once, by simply drowning herself, 
but is prevented by Neptune, who quietly carries her 
down to his abodes under the roots of the ocean, and 
brings her back at the right moment to solve all 
the difficulties, explain the relationships, and end the 
whole with a wedding and a dance. This is, no doubt, 
very wild and extravagant, especially in the part con- 
taining the incantation and in the part played by 
Neptune; but, after all, the dialogue is pleasant and 
easy, and the style natural and spirited. 

» The two Pastoral Colloquies differ from the four 
Comedias, partly in having even less carefully con- 
structed plots, and partly in affecting, through their 
more bucolic portions, a stately and pedantic air, which 
is anything but agreeable. They belong, however, 
substantially to the same class of dramas, and received 
a different name, perhaps, only from the circumstance 
that a pastoral tone was always popular in Spanish 
poetry, and that, from the time of Enzina, it had been 
considered peculiarly fitted for public exhibition. The 


60 LOPE DE RUEDA. [Pzrrop II. 


comic parts of the Colloquies are the only portions of 
them that have merit; and the following passage from 
that of “Timbria” is as characteristic of Lope de 
Rueda’s light and natural manner as anything, per- 
haps, that can be selected from what we havo of his 
dramas. It is a discussion between Leno, the shrewd 
fool of the piece, and Troico,” in which Leno in- 
geniously contrives to get rid of all blame for having 
eaten up a nice cake which Timbria, the lady in love 
with Troico, had sent to him by the faithless glutton. 


Leno. Ah, Troico, are you there ? 

Troico. Yes, my good fellow, don’t you see I am ? 

Leno. It would be better if I did not see it, 

Troico. Why so, Leno? 

Leno. Why, then you would not know a piece of ill-luck that has just 
happened. 

Troico. What ill-luck ? 

Leno. What day is it to-day ? 

Troico. Thursday. 
*51 *Leno. Thursday? How soon will Tuesday come, then ? 
Troico. Tuesday is passed two days ago. 

Leno. Well, that’s something ;— but tell me, are there not other days of ill- 
luck as well as Tuesdays ?78 

Troico. What do you ask that for ? 

Leno. I ask, because there may be unlucky pancakes, if these are unlucky 
Thursdays. 

Troico. I suppose so. 

Leno. Now, stop there;— suppose one of yours had been eaten of a Thurs- 
day ; on whom would the ill-luck have fallen ?— on the pancake, or on you ? 

Troico. No doubt, on me. 

Leno. Then, my good Troico, comfort yourself, and begin to suffer and be pa? 
tient ; for men, as the saying is, are born to misfortunes, and these are matters, 
in fine, that come from God; and in the order of time you must die yourself, 
and, as the saying is, your last hour will then be come and arrived. Take it, 
then, patiently, and remember that we are here to-morrow and gone to-day. 

Troico. For heaven’s sake, Leno, is anybody in the family dead? Or else why 
do you console me so ? 

Leno. Would to heaven that were all, Troico ! 


22 ‘Troico, it should be observed, is a as Bl escrito, a 
woman in disguise. artes es dia aciago. 

8 This superstition about Tuesday as Lope de Vega, El Cuerdo en su Casa, Acte 
an ‘unlucky day is not unfre quent in palace aie Madrid, 1615, 4to, Tom. VI. 


theold Spanish drama : — 


Car. VII.] LOPE DE RUEDA. 61 


Troico. Then what is it? Can’t you tell me without so many circumlocutions ? 
What is all this preamble about ? 

Leno. When my poor mother died, he that brought me the news, before he 
told me of it, dragged me round through more turn-abouts than there are wind- 
ings in the Pisuerga and Zapardiel.?# 

Troico. But I have got no mother, and never knew one. I don’t comprehend 
what you mean. 

Leno. Then smell of this napkin. 

Troico. Very well, I have smelt of it. 

Leno. What does it smell of ? 

Troico. Something like butter. 

Leno. Then you may truly say, ‘‘ Here Troy was.” 

Troico. What do you mean, Leno ? 

Leno. For you it was given to me ; for you Madam Timbria sent it, all stuck 
over with nuts ;—but, as I have (and Heaven and everybody else knows it) a 
sort of natural relationship for whatever is good, my eyes watched and followed 
her just as a hawk follows chickens. 

Troico. Followed whom, villain? Timbria ? 

Leno. Heaven forbid! But how nicely she sent it, all made up with butter 
and sugar ! 

Troico. And what was that ? 

* Leno. The pancake, to be sure, — don’t you understand ? * 52 

Troico. And who sent a pancake to me ? 

Leno. Why, Madam Timbria. 

Troico, Then what became of it ? 

Leno. It was consumed. 

Troico. How? 

Leno. By looking at it. 

Troico. Who looked at it ? 

Leno. I, by ill-luck. 

Troico. In what fashion ? 

Leno. Why, Isat down by the wayside, 

Troico. Well, what next? 

Leno. 1 took it in my hand. 

Troico. And then ? 

Leno. Then I tried how it tasted ; and what between taking and leaving all 
around the edges of it, when I tried to think what had become of it, I found I 
had no sort of recollection. 

Troico. The upshot is that you ate it ? 

Leno. It is not impossible. 

Troico. In faith, you area trusty fellow ! 

Leno. Indeed! do you think so? Hereafter, if I bring two, I will eat them 
both, and so be better yet. 

Troico. The business goes on well. 

Leno, And well advised, and at small cost, and to my content. But now, go 
to; suppose we have a little jest with Timbria. 

Troico. Of what sort ? 


4 Rivers in the north of Spain, often mentioned in Spanish poetry, especially . 
the first of them. 


62 


LOPE DE RUEDA. - 


[Periop II. 


Leno. Suppose you make her believe you ate the pancake yourself, and when 
she thinks it is true, you and I can laugh at the trick till you split your sides. 


Can you ask for anything better ? 
Troico. You counsel well. 


Leno. Well, Heaven bless the men that listen to reason ! 


But tell me, Troico, 


do you think you can carry out the jest with a grave face ? 

Troico. 1? What have I to laugh about ? 

Leno. Why, don’t you think it isa laughing matter to make her believe you 
ate it, when all the time it was your own good Leno that did it? 

Troico. Wisely said. But now hold your tongue, and go about your busi- 


ness. 


* 53 


* The ten Pasos are much like this dialogue, 


—short and lively, without plot or results, and 


25 Len. Ah, Troico! estds aca? 

Tro. Si, hermano: tu no lo ves? 

Len. Mas valiera que no. 

Tro. Porque, Leno? 

Len. Porque no supieras una desgracia, que 
ha sucedido harto poco ha. 

Tro. Y que ha sido la desgracia ? 

Len, Que es hoy? 

Tro. Jueves. 

Len. Jueves? 
tes ? 

Tro. Antes le sobran dos dias. 

Len. Mucho es eso! Mas dime, suele haber 
dias aziagos asi como los Martes? 

Tro. Porque lo dices? 

Len. Pregunto, porque tambien habra hojal- 
dres desgraciadas, pues hay Jueves desgraciados. 

Tro. Creo que 8i! 

Len, Y ven aca: si te la hubiesen comido 4 ti 
una en Jueves, en quien habria caido la desgra- 
cia, en la hojaldre 6 en ti? 

Tro. No hay duda sino que en mi. 

Len. Pues, hermano Troico, aconértaos, y 
comenzad 4 sufrir, y ser paciente, que por los 
hombres (como dicen) suelen venir las desgra- 
cias, y estas son cosas de Dios en fin, y tambien 
Segun orden de los dias os podriades yos morir, 
y (como dicen) ya seria recomplida y allegada 
la hora postrimera, rescebildo con paciencia, y 
acordaos que manana somos y hoy no. 

Tro. Valame Dios, Leno! Es muerto alguno 
en casa? O como me consuelas ansi? 

Len, Ojala, Troico! 

Tro. Pues que fué? No lo dirds sin tantos 
circunloquios? Para que es tanto preambulo? 

Len. Quando mi madre murid, para decir- 
melo é1 que me llev6 la nueva me trajs mas ro- 
deos que tiene bueltas Pisuerga 6 Zapardiel 

Tro. Pues yo no tengo madre, ni la conosci, 
ni te entiendo. 

Len. Huele ese panizuelo. 

Tro. Y bien? Ya esta olido. 

Len. A que huele? 

Tro. A cosa de manteca. 

Len. Pues bien puedes decir, aqui fué Troya. 

Tro. Como, Leno? 

Len. Para ti me Ja habian dado, para ti la 
embiaba rebestida de pinones la Senora Tim- 
bria; pero como yo soy (y lo sabe Dios y todo el 
mundo) allegado 4 lo bueno, en viéndola asi, se 
me vinieron los ojos tras ella como milano tras 
de pollera. 

Tro. Tras quien, traidor? tras Timbria? 

Len. Que no, valame Dios! Que empapada 
la embiaba de manteca y azucar! 

Tro. La que? 


Quanto le falta para ser Mar- 


Len. 
Tro. 
Len. 
Tro. 
Len. 
Tro. 
Len. 
Tro. 
Len. 
Tro. 
Len. 
Tro. 

Len. 


Ta hojaldre: no lo entiendes? 
Y quien me la embiaba? 
La Senora Timbria. 

Pues que la heciste? 
Consumicse. 

De que? 

De ojo. 

Quien la ojeé? 

Yo mal punto! 

De que manera? 
Asentéme en el camino, 
Y que mas? 

Toméla en la mano. 

Tro. Y luego? 

Len. Prové 4 que sabia, y como por una 
vanda y por otra estaba de dar y tomar, quando 
por ella acordé, ya no habia memoria, 

Tro. En fin, te la comiste ? 

Len. Podria ser. 

Tro. Por cierto, que eres hombre de buen 
recado. 

Len. A fe? que te parezco? De aqui ade- 
lante si trugere dos, me las comeré juntas, para 
hacello mejor. 

Tro. Bueno va el negocio. 

Len. Y bien regido, y con poca costa, y 4 mi 
contento. Mas ven aca, si quies que riamos un 
rato con Timbria ? 

Tro De que suerte? 

Len. Puedes le hacer en creyente, que la co- 
miste tu, y como ella piense que es verdad, po- 
dremos despues tu y yo reir aca de la burla ; 
que rebentardas riyendo! Que mas quies? 

Tro, Bien me aconsejas. 

Len. Agora bien; Dios bendiga los hombres 
acogidos 4 razon! Pero dime, Troico, sabras 
disimular con ella sin reirte ? 

Tro. Yo? de que me habia de reir? 

Len. No te paresce, que es manera de reir, 
hacelle en creyente, que tu_te la comiste, ha- 
biéndosela comido tu amigo Leno? 

Tro. Dices sabiamente; mas calla, vete en 
buen hora. 


(Las Quatro Comedias, etc., de Lope de Rueda, 
Sevilla, 1576, 8vo.) 

The learned allusion to Troy by a 
man as humble as Leno might seem in- 
appropriate ; but it is a phrase that was 
in popular use. Don Quixote employed 
it, when, leaving Barcelona, he looked 
back upon that city as the scene of his 
final discomfiture and disgrace. It oc- 
curs often in the old dramatists. 


Cuar. VII.) LOPE DE RUEDA. 63 


merely intended to amuse an idle audience for a few 
moments. Two of them are on glutton tricks, like 
that practised by Leno; others are between thieves 
and cowards; and all are drawn from common life, 
and written with spirit. It is very possible that some 
of them were taken out of larger and more formal 
dramatic compositions, which it was not thought 
worth while to print entire.” 

The two dialogues in verse are curious, as the only 
specimens of Lope de Rueda’s poetry that are now ex- 
tant, except some songs, and a fragment preserved by 
Cervantes.” One is called “ Proofs of Love,” 
and is a sort *of pastoral discussion between * 54 
two shepherds, on the question which was most 
favored, the one who had received a finger-ring as a 
present, or the one who had received an ear-ring. It 
is written in easy and flowing guwintillas, and is not 
longer than one of the slight dialogues in prose. The 
other is called “ A Dialogue on the Breeches now in 
Fashion,” and is in the same easy measure, but has 
more of its author’s peculiar spirit and manner. It is 
between two lackeys, and begins thus abruptly : — 


Peralta, Master Fuentes, what ’s the change, I pray, 
I notice in your hosiery and shape ? 
You seem so very swollen as you walk. 
Fuentes. Sir, ’tis the breeches fashion now prescribes. 
Peralta. 1 thought it was an under-petticoat. 
Fuentes. I’m not ashamed of what I have put on. 
Why must I wear my breeches made like yours ? 
Good friend, your own are wholly out of vogue. 


26 This I infer from the fact that, at 
the end of the edition of the Comedias 
and Coloquios, 1576, there is a ‘‘ Tabla 
de los pasos graciosos que se pueden 
sacar de las presentes Comedias y Colo- 
quios y poner en otras obras.” Indeed, 
paso meant a passage. Pasos were, 
however, undoubtedly sometimes writ- 
ten as separate works by Lope de Rueda, 


and were not called entremeses till Timo- 
neda gave them the name. Still, they 
may have been earlier used as such, or 
as introductions to the longer dramas. 

*7 There is a Glosa printed at the end 
of the Comedias ; but it is not of much 
value. The passage preserved by Cer- 
vantes is in his ‘‘ Baitos de Argel,” 
near the end. 


64 


LOPE DE RUEDA. 


But what are yours so lined and stuffed withal, 
That thus they seem so very smooth and tight ? 


But they wear, at least, 


Peralta. 
Fuentes. Of that we ‘ll say but little. An old mantle, 
And a cloak still older and more spoiled, 
Do vainly struggle from my hose t’ escape. 
Peralta. To my mind they were used to better ends 
If sewed up for a horse’s blanket, sir. 
Fuentes. But others stuff in plenty of clean straw 
And rushes to make out a shapely form — 
Peralta. Proving that they are more or less akin 
To beasts of burden. 
Fuentes. 
Such gallant hosiery that things of taste 
May well be added to fit out their dress. 
Peralta. No doubt the man that dresses thus in straw 


May tastefully put on a saddle too.% 


* 58 


*In all the forms of the drama attempted by 


Lope de Rueda, the main purpose is evidently 


to amuse a popular audience. 


But, to do this, his 


theatrical resources were very small and humble. “In 
the time of this celebrated Spaniard,” says Cervantes, 


28 Per. Senor Fuentes, que mudanza 
Habeis hecho en el calzado, 
Con que andais tan abultado? 
Fuent. Sefior, calzas 4 la usanza. 

er.  Pense qu’ era verdugado. 

Fuent. Pues yo d@’ ellas no me corro. 

Que han de ser como las vuesas? 

Hermano, ya no usan d’ esas. 

Mas que les hechais de aforro, 

Que aun se paran tan tiesas? 

D’ eso poco: un sayo viejo 

Y toda una ruin capa, 

Que 4 esta calza no escapa. 

Pues, si van a mi consejo, 

Hecharan una gualdrapa. 

. Y aun otros mandan poner 
Copia de paja y esparto, 
Porque les abulten harto. 
Esos deben de tener 
De bestias quiza algun quarto. 

. Pondrase qualquier alhaja 
Por traer calza gallarda. 
Cierto yo no sé que aguarda. 
Quien va vestido de paja 
De hacerse alguna albarda. 


Per. 
Fuent. 


I do not know that this dialogue is 
printed anywhere but at the end of the 
edition of the Comedias, 1576. Itrefers 
evidently to the broad-bottomed stuffed 
hose or boots, then coming into fashion ; 
such as the daughter of Sancho, in her 
vanity, when she heard her father was 
governor of Barrataria, wanted to see 
him wear ; and such as Don Carlos, ac- 
cording to the account of Thuanus, wore, 


when he used to hide in their strange 
recesses the pistols that alarmed Philip 
II. ;— ‘‘caligis, que amplissime de 
more gentis in usu sunt.” They were 
forbidden by a royal ordinance in 1623. 
See D. Quixote, (Parte II. c. 50,) with 
two amusing stories told in the notes 
of Pellicer and Thuani Historiarum, 
Lib. XLI., at the beginning. They 
became fashionable in other parts of 
Europe, as the whole Spanish costume, 
hat, feathers, cloak, etc., did from the 
spread of Spanish power and prestige ; 
that is, precisely for the same reasons 
that the French dress and fashions have 
spread since the time of Louis XIV. 
Figueroa (Placa Universal, 1615, ff. 226, 
227) has an amusing article about 
tailors, in which he claims precedence 
for the skill and taste of those in Ma- 
drid, and shows how their supremacy 
was acknowledged in France and Italy. 
That it was acknowledged in England 
in the time of Elizabeth and James I. 
we very well know. Roger Ascham, 
in his ‘‘Schoolmaster,” talks of the 
very ‘‘huge hose” here referred to, as 
an ‘‘outrage” to be rebuked and re- 

ressed, like that of the ‘‘monstrous 

ats,” etc., —all Spanish. 


Cuar. VII.] THEATRE IN THE TIME OF LOPE DE RUEDA. 60 


recalling the gay season of his own youth,” “the whole 
apparatus of a manager was contained in a large sack, 
and consisted of four white shepherd’s jackets, turned 
up with leather, gilt and stamped; four beards and 
false sets of hanging locks; and four shepherd’s crooks, 
more or less. The plays were colloquies, like eclogues, 
between two or three shepherds and a shepherdess, 
fitted up and extended with two or three interludes, 
whose personages were sometimes a negress, some- 
times a bully, sometimes a fool, and sometimes a Bis- 
cayan;—for all these four parts, and many others, 
Lope himself performed with the greatest excellence 
and skill that can be imagined..... The theatre 
was composed of four benches, arranged in a square, 
with five or six boards laid across them, that were 
thus raised about four palms from the ground..... 
The furniture of the theatre was an old blanket drawn 
aside by two cords, making what they call the tiring- 
room, behind which were the musicians, who sang old 
ballads without a guitar.” 

The place where this rude theatre was set up was 
a public square, and the performances occurred when- 
ever an audience could be collected; apparently both 
forenoon and afternoon, for, at the end of one of his 
plays, Lope de Rueda invites his “ hearers only to eat 
their dinner and return to the square,” ” and witness 
another. 

His four longer dramas have some resem- 
blance to portions * of the earlier English com- * 56 
edy, which, at precisely the same period, was 
beginning to show itself in pieces such as “Ralph 
Royster Doyster,’ and “Gammer Gurton’s Needle.” 


29 Comedias, Prélogo. 
8? «* Auditores, no hagais sino comer, y dad la vuelta 4 la plaza,” 


VOL, II. 5 


66 


JUAN DE TIMONEDA. [Periop II. 


They are divided into what are called scenes, — the 
shortest of them consisting of six, and the longest of 
ten; but in these scenes the place sometimes changes, 
and the persons often, — a circumstance of little conse- 
quence, where the whole arrangements implied no 
real attempt at scenic illusion.” Much of the success 
of all depended on the part played by the fools, or 
simples, who, in most of his dramas, are important per- 
sonages, almost constantly on the stage ;* while some- 
thing 1s done by mistakes in language, arising from 
vulgar ignorance or from foreign dialects, like those of 
negroes and Moors. Each piece opens with a brief 
explanatory prologue, and ends with a word of jest and 
apology to the audience. Naturalness of thought, the 
most easy, idiomatic, purely Castilian turns of expres- 
sion, a good-humored, free gayety, a strong sense of 
the ridiculous, and a happy imitation of the manners 
and tone of common life, are the prominent character- 
istics of these, as they are of all the rest of his shorter 
efforts. He was, therefore, on the right road, and was, 
in consequence, afterwards justly reckoned, both by 
Cervantes and Lope de Vega, to be the true founder 
of the popular national theatre. 

The earliest follower of Lope de Rueda was his 
friend and editor, Juan de Timoneda, a bookseller of 
Valencia, who certainly flourished during the middle 
and latter part of the sixteenth century, and probably 


81 In the fifth escena of the ‘‘Eufe- 
mia,” the place changes, when Valiano 
comes in. Indeed, it is evident that 
Lope de Rueda did not know the mean- 
ing of the word scene, or did not employ 
it aright. 

82 The first traces of these simples, 
who were afterwards expanded into the 
graciosos, is to be found in the parvos 
of Gil Vicente. 

33 Cervantes, in the Prélogo already 
cited, calls him ‘‘e/ gran Lope de Rue- 


da,” and, when speaking of the Spanish 
Comedias, treats him as ‘‘el primero 
que en Espafia las sacd de mantillas y 
las puso en toldo y vistid de gala y 
apariencia.” This was in 1615; and 
Cervantes spoke from his own knowl- 
edge and memory. In 1620, in the 
Prologo to the thirteenth volume of his 
Comedias, (Madrid, 4to,) Lope de Vega 
says, ‘‘ Las comedias no eran mas anti- 
guas que Rueda, 4 quien oyeron muchos, 
que hoy viven.” 


67 


Cuap. VII.] JUAN DE TIMONEDA. 


died in extreme old age, soon after the year 
*1597.% His thirteen or fourteen pieces that * 57 
were printed pass under various names, and 
have a considerable variety in their character; the 
most popular in their tone being the best. Four are 
called “ Pasos,’ and four “ Farsas,” — all much alike. 
Two are called “Comedias,” one of which, the “ Aure- 
ha,” written in short verses, is divided into five jornadas, 
and has an dntréito, after the manner of Naharro; while 
the other, the “ Cornelia,’ is merely divided into seven 
scenes, and written in prose, after the manner of Lope 
de Rueda. Besides these, we have what, in the pres- 
ent sense of the word, is for the first time called an 
“Hntremes”; a Tragicomedia, which is a mixture of 
mythology and modern history; a religious Auto, 
on the subject of the Lost Sheep; and a translation, 
or rather an imitation, of the “Menzechmi” of Plautus. 
In all of them, however, he seems to have relied for 
success on a spirited, farcical dialogue, like that of 
Lope de Rueda; and all were, no doubt, written to be 
acted in the public squares, to which, more than once, 
they make allusion.® 

The “ Cornelia,” first printed in 1559, is somewhat 
confused in its story. We have in it a young lady, 
taken, when a child, by the Moors, and returned, when 
grown up, to the neighborhood of her friends, without 
knowing who she is; a foolish fellow, deceived by his 
wife, and yet not without shrewdness enough to make 
much merriment; and Pasquin, partly a quack doctor, 


84 Ximeno, Escritores de Valencia, 
Tom. I. p. 72, and Fuster, Biblioteca 
Valenciana, Tom. I. p. 161. But best 
in Barreira y Leirado ad verb. 

8 In the Prologue to the Cornelia, 
one of the speakers says that one of the 
principal personages of the piece lives 


in Valencia, ‘‘in this house which you 
see,” he adds, pointing the spectators 
picturesquely, and no doubt with comic 
effect, to some house they could all see. 
A similar jest about another of the 
personages is repeated a little further 
on, 


68 JUAN DE TIMONEDA. [Periop II, 


partly a magician, and wholly a rogue; who, with five 
or six other characters, make rather a superabundance 
of materials for so short a drama. Some of the dia- 
logues are full of life; and the development of two or 
three of the characters is good, especially that of Cor- 
nalla, the clown; but the most prominent personage,,. 
perhaps, — the magician, —1is taken, in a considerable 
degree, from the “ Negromante” of Ariosto, which was 
represented at Ferrara about thirty years ear- 
*58 lier, and proves that *Timoneda had some 
scholarship, if not always a ready invention.* 
The “Menennos,” published in the same year with 
the Cornelia, is further proof of his learning. It is in 
prose, and taken from Plautus; but with large changes. 
The plot is laid in Seville; the play is divided into 
fourteen scenes, after the example of Lope de Rueda; 
and the manners are altogether Spanish. There is 
even a talk of Lazarillo de Térmes, when speaking of 
an unprincipled young servant.” But it shows fre- 
quently the same free and natural dialogue, fresh from 
common life, that is found in his master’s dramas; and 
it can be read with pleasure throughout, as an amusing 
rifacimento.® 
The Paso, however, of “The Blind Beggars and the 
Boy ”’ is, like the other short pieces, more characteristic 
of the author and of the little school to which he 
belonged. It is written in short, familiar verses, and 
opens with an address to the audience by Palillos, the 
boy, asking for employment, and setting forth his own 
good qualities, which he illustrates by showing how 
88 **Con privilegio. Comedia llama- hermano de Lazarillo de Térmes, el que 
da Cornelia, nuevamente compuesta, por tuvo trezientos y cincuenta amos.” 
Juan de Timoneda. Es muy sentida, 88 “*Con privilegio. La Comedia de 
Braciosa, y vozijada. Afio1559.” 8vo. los Menennos, traduzida por Juan Timo- 


87 It is in the twelfth scene. ‘‘Es neda, y puesta en gracioso estilo y ele- 
el mas agudo rapaz del mundo, y es gantes sentencias. Afio 1559.” 8vo. 


Car. VII.) JUAN DE TIMONEDA. 69 


ingeniously he had robbed a blind beggar who had 
been his master. At this instant, Martin Alvarez, the 
blind beggar in question, approaches on one side of a 
square where the scene passes, chanting his prayers, 
as is still the wont of such persons in the streets of 
Spanish cities; while on the other side of the same 
square approaches another of the same class, called 
Pero Gomez, similarly employed. Both offer their 
prayers in exchange for alms, and are particularly 
earnest to obtain custom, as it is Christmas eve. Mar- 
tin Alvarez begins: — 
What pious Christian here 
Will bid me pray 
A blessed prayer, 
Quite singular 


And new, I say, 
In honor of our Lady dear? 


* On hearing the well-known voice, Palillos, the *59 
boy, is alarmed, and, at first, talks of escaping ; 

but, recollecting that there is no need of this, as the 
beggar is blind, he merely stands still, and his old 
master goes on: — 


O, bid me pray! O, bid me pray !— 
The very night is holy time, — 

O, bid me pray the blessed prayer, 
The birth of Christ in rhyme! 


But as nobody offers an alms, he breaks out again: — 


Good heavens! the like was never known! 
The thing is truly fearful grown ; 
For I have cried, 
Till my throat is dried, 
At every corner on my way, 
And not a soul heeds what I say 
The people, I begin to fear, 
Are grown too careful of their gear, 
For honest prayers to pay. 


The other blind beggar, Pero Gomez, now comes up 
and strikes in: — 


70 JUAN DE TIMONEDA. [(Periop Il. 


Who will ask for the blind man’s prayer ? 
O, gentle souls that hear my word ! 
Give but an humble alms, 
And I will sing the holy psalms 
For which Pope Clement’s bulls afford 
Indulgence full, indulgence rare, 


And add, besides, the blessed prayer 

For the birth of our blessed Lord.®9 
The two blind men, hearing each other, enter into 
conversation, and, believing themselves to be 
*60 alone, Alvarez *relates how he had _ been 
robbed by his unprincipled attendant, and Go- 
mez explains how he avoids such misfortunes by 
always carrying the ducats he begs sewed into his cap. 
Palillos, learning this, and not well pleased with the 
character he has just received, comes very quietly up 
to Gomez, knocks off his cap, and escapes with it. 
Gomez thinks it is his blind friend who has played him 
the trick, and asks civilly to have his cap back again. 
The friend denies, of course, all knowledge of it; 
Gomez insists; and the dialogue ends, as others of its 
class do, with a quarrel and a fight, to the great amuse- 
ment, no doubt, of audiences such as were collected in 
the public squares of Valencia or Seville.” : 


La oracion del nacimiento 


89 Devotos cristianos, quien ‘ 
De Christo. 


Manda rezar 


Una oracion singular 
Nueva de nuestra Senora? 


Mandadme rezar, pues que es 
Noche santa, 
La oracion segun se canta 
Del nacimiento de Cristo. 
Jesus! nunca tal he visto, 
Cosa es esta que me espanta: 
Seca tengo la garganta 
De pregones 
Que voy dando por cantones, 
Y nada no me aprovecha : 
Es la gente tan estrecha, 
Que no cuida de oraciones. 


Quien manda sus devociones, 
Noble gente, 
Que rece devotamente 
Los salmos de penitencia, 
Por los cuales indulgencia 
Otorgs el Papa Clemente? 


L. F. Moratin, Obras, Madrid, 1830, 8yo, Tom. 
I. p. 648. 

40 This Paso—true to the manners 
of the times, as we can see from a simi- 
lar scene in the ‘‘ Diablo Cojuelo,” 
Tranco VI. —is reprinted by L. F. 
Moratin, (Obras, 8vo, Madrid, 1830, 
Tom. I. Parte II. p. 644,) who gives 
(Parte I. Catalogo, Nos. 95, 96, 106- 
118) the best account of all the works 
of Timoneda. The habit of singing 
popular poetry of all kinds in the streets 
has been common, from the days of the 
Archpriest Hita (Copla 1488) to our 
own times. I have often listened to it, 
and possess many of the ballads and 
other verses still paid for by an alms, 
as they were in this Paso of Timoneda. 


Cuar, VII.] JUAN DE TIMONEDA. (ai 


- In one of the plays of Cervantes, — The lines in the original are not con- 
that of ‘‘Pedro de Urdemalas,”—the secutive, but those I have selected are 
hero is introduced enacting the part of as follows :— 
a blind beggar, and is advertising him- ; 

Se la del anima sola, 


self by his chant, just as the beggar in Y se la de San Pancracio, 


Timoneda does : — La de San Quirce y Acacio, 
Se la de los sabanones, 


The prayer of the secret soul I know, ses 
That of Pancras the blessed of old ; La de curar la tericia \ 
The prayer of Acacius and Quirce ; ¥ resolver lamparones. 
One for chilblains, that come from the cold, Comedias, Madrid, 1615, 4to, f. 207. 
? ’ ? 9° bs 


One for jaundice that yellows the skin, 2 
And for scrofula working within. 


*b1 ‘CHART Git, ay sel: 


THEATRE. — FOLLOWERS OF LOPE DE RUEDA.— ALONSO DE LA VEGA. — CISNE- 
ROS. — SEVILLE. — MALARA. — CUEVA. — ZEPEDA. — VALENCIA. — VIRUES. — 
TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS OF THE ANCIENT CLASSICAL DRAMA. — 
VILLALOBOS. — OLIVA. — BOSCAN. — ABRIL. — BERMUDEZ. — ARGENSOLA. — 
STATE OF THE THEATRE. 


Two of the persons attached to Lope de Rueda’s 
company were, like himself, authors as well as actors. 
One of them, Alonso de la Vega, died at Valencia as 
early as 1566, in which year three of his dramas, all in 
prose, and one of them directly imitated from his mas- 
ter, were published by Timoneda.?’ The other, Alonso 
Cisneros, lived as late as 1579, but it does not seem 
certain that any dramatic work of his now exists.” 
Neither of them was equal to Lope de Rueda or Juan 
de Timoneda; but the four taken together produced 
an impression on the theatrical taste of their times 
which was never afterwards wholly forgotten or lost, 
—a fact of which the shorter dramatic compositions 
that have been favorites on the Spanish stage ever 
since give decisive proof. 

But dramatic representations in Spain between 1560 
and 1590 were by no means confined to what was done 
by Lope de Rueda, his friends, and his strolling com- 
pany of actors. Other efforts were made in various 
places, and upon other principles; sometimes with 
more success than theirs, sometimes with less. In 
Seville, a good deal seems to have been done. It is 


1 ©, Pellicer, Origen de la Comedia, Tom. I. p. 111; Tom. II. p. 18; with L. F. 
Moratin, Obras, Tom. I. Parte IT. p. 638, and his Catalogo, Nos. 100, The and 105. 
2 ©, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 116; Tom. II. p. 380. 


- 


Cuar. VIII] JUAN DE LA CUEVA. 13 


probable the plays of Malara or Mal Lara, a native of 
that city, were represented there during this 

period ; but they are now all *lost? Those of * 62 
Juan de la Cueva, on the contrary, have been 

partly preserved, and merit notice for many reasons, 
but especially because most of them are historical. 
They were represented —at least, the few that still 
remain—in 1579, and the years immediately sub- 
sequent; but were not printed till 1588, and then 
only a single volume appeared.* Each of them is 
divided into four jornadas, or acts, and they are writ- 
ten in various measures, including terza rima, blank 
verse, and sonnets, but chiefly in redondillas and octave 
stanzas. Several are on national subjects, like “ The 
Children of Lara,” “Bernardo del Carpio,’ and “ The 
Siege of Zamora”; others are on subjects from ancient 
history, such as Ajax, Virginia, and Mutius Scevola; 
some are on fictitious stories, ike “The Old Man in 
Love,” and “The Decapitated,’ which last is founded 
on a Moorish adventure ; and one, at least, is on a great 
event of times then recent, “The Sack of Rome” by 
the Constable Bourbon. All, however, are crude in 
their structure, and unequal in their execution. The 
Sack of Rome, for instance, is merely a succession of 
dialogues thrown together in the loosest manner, to set 


8 Navarrete, Vida de Cervantes, p. 
410. Mal Lara will be noticed here- 
after, (Period II. Chap. XXXIX.,) but 
here it may be well to mention that the 
year before his death he published an 
account of the reception of Philip II. 
at Seville in May, 1570, when Philip 
visited that city after the war of the 
Moriscos. Mal Lara prepared the in- 
scriptions, Latin and Spanish, used to 
explain the multitudinous allegorical 
figures that constituted a great part of 
the show on the occasion, and printed 
them, and everything else that could 
illustrate the occasion, in his ‘‘ Recivi- 


miento que hizo la muy leal Ciudad de 
Sevilla a la C. R. M. del Rey Felipe 
N. 8.,” etc. (Sevilla, 1570, 18mo, ff. 
181) ;—Aa curious little volume, some- 
times amusing from the hints it gives 
about Philip {1., Ferdinand Columbus, 
Lebrixa, etc. ; but oftener from the 
general description of the city or the 
particular accounts of the ceremonies of 
the occasion, —all in choice Castilian. 

4 L. F. Moratin, Obras, Tom. IJ. Parte 
I., Catalogo, Nos. 182-139, 142-145, 
147, and 150. Martinez de la Rosa, 
Obras, Paris, 1827, 12mo, Tom. II. 
pp. 167, ete. 


74 JUAN DE LA CUEVA. [Pentop IL. 


forth the progress of the Imperial arms, from the 
siege of Rome in May, 1527, to the coronation of 
Charles the Fifth at Bologna, in February, 1530; and 
though the picture of the outrages at Rome is not 
without an air of truth, there is little truth in other 
respects ; the Spaniards being made to carry off all the 
glory.’ 7 
“Kl Infamador,” or The Calumniator, sets forth, in 
a different tone, the story of a young lady who 
*63 refuses the *love of a dissolute young man, 
and is, in consequence, accused by him of mur- 
der and other crimes, and condemned to death, but is 
rescued by preternatural power, while her accuser suf- 
fers in her stead. It is almost throughout a revolting 
picture ; the fathers of the hero and heroine being each 
made to desire the death of his own child, while the 
whole is rendered absurd by the not unusual mixture 
of heathen mythology and modern manners. Of 
poetry, which is occasionally found in Cueva’s other 
dramas, there is in this play no trace, though there are 
passages of comic spirit ; and so carelessly is it written, 
that there is no division of the acts into scenes.® In- 
deed, it seems difficult to understand how several of his 
twelve or fourteen dramas should have been brought 
into practical shape and represented at all. It is prob-_ 
able they were merely spoken as consecutive dia- * 
logues, to bring out their respective stories, without 
any attempt at theatrical illusion ; a conjecture which 
receives confirmation from the fact that nearly all of 
them are announced, on their titles, as having been 


5 «Fl Saco de Roma” is reprinted of Leucino, in this ‘‘ Comedia,” is some- 
in Ochoa, Teatro Espafiol, Paris, 1838, times supposed to have suggested that 
8vo, Tom. I. p. 251. of Don Juan to Tirso de Molina; but 

8 «* El Infamador” is reprinted in the resemblance, I think, does not jus- 
Ochoa, Tom. J. p. 264. The character tify the conjecture. 


Cuap. VIII.] 


75 


ROMERO DE ZEPEDA. 


represented in the garden of a certain Dojia Elvira at 
Seville.’ 

The two plays of Joaquin Romero de Zepeda, of 
Badajoz, which were printed at Seville in 1582, 
are somewhat different from those of Cueva. One, 
“The Metamorfosea,’ is in the nature of the old dra- 
matic pastorals, but is divided into three short jornadas, 
or acts. It isa trial of wits and love, between three 
shepherds and three shepherdesses, who are constantly 
at cross purposes with each other, but are at last recon- 
ciled and united ; —all except one shepherd, who had 
originally refused to love anybody, and one shepherd- 
ess, Belisena, who, after being cruel to one of her loy- 
ers, and slighted by another, is finally rejected by the 
rejected of all. The other play, called “La Comedia 
Salvage,’ is taken in its first two acts from 
the well-known dramatic novel of *“Celes- 
tina’’; the last act being filled with atrocities of 
Zepeda’s own invention. It obtains its name from the 
Salvages or wild men, who figure in it, as such per- 
sonages did in the old romances of chivalry and the old 
English drama, and is as strange and rude as its title © 
implies. Neither of these pieces, however, can have 
done anything of consequence for the advancement 
of the drama at Seville, though each contains passages 
of flowing and apt verse, and occasional turns of 
thought that deserve to be called graceful.’ 


* 64 


7 One of the plays, not represented in 
the Huerta de Dofia Elvira, is repre- 
sented ‘fen el Corral de Don Juan,” 
and another in the Atarazanas, — Arse- 
nal, or Ropewalks. None of them, I 
suppose, appeared on a public theatre. 

These two pieces are in ‘‘ Obras de 
Joachim Romero de Zepeda, Vezino de 
Badajoz,” (Sevilla, 1582, 4to, ff. 130 
and 118,) and are reprinted by Ochoa. 
The opening of the second jornada of 


The Metamorfosea may be cited for its 
pleasant and graceful tone of poetry, — 
lyrical, however, rather than dramatic, 
—and its air of the olden time. An- 
other play found by Schack in MS. is 
dated 1626, and implies that Zepeda 
was long a writer for the theatre. 
(Nachtrage, 1854, p. 59.) Other au- 
thors living in Seville at about the 
same period are mentioned by La Cu- 
eva in his ‘‘ Exemplar Poético” (Se- 


76 CRISTOVAL DE VIRUES. [Perzop IL. 


During the same period, there was at Valencia, as 
well as at Seville, a poetical movement in which the 
drama shared, and in which, 1 think, Lope de Vega, 
an exile in Valencia for several years, about 1585, 
took part. At any rate, his friend, Cristoval de Vi- 
rues, of whom he often speaks, and who was born 
there in 1550, was among those who then gave an im- 
pulse to the theatrical taste of his native city. He 
claims to have first divided Spanish dramas into three 
jornadas or acts, and Lope de Vega assents to the 
claim; but they were both mistaken, for we now 
know that such a division was made by Francisco de 
Avendano, not later than 1553, when Virues was but 
three years old. 

Only five of the plays of Virues, all in verse, are 
extant; and these, though supposed to have been 
written as early as 1579-1581, were not printed till 
1609, when Lope de Vega had already given its full 
development and character to the popular theatre ; so 
that it is not improbable some of the dramas of Vi- 

rues, as printed, may have been more or less al- 
*65 tered and accommodated to *the standard then 

considered as settled by the genius of his friend. 
Two of them, the “ Cassandra”’ and the “ Marcela,” are 
on subjects apparently of the Valencian poet’s own 
invention, and are extremely wild and extravagant ; 
in “El Atila Furioso” above fifty persons come to an 
untimely end, without reckoning the crew of a galley 
who perish in the flames for the diversion of the ty- 
rant and his followers; and in the “ Semiramis,’ ”° the 


dano, Parnaso Espafiol, Tom. VIII. Some of them, from his account, wrote 
60) :— 


p- in the manner of the ancients; and 
Los Sevillanos comicos, Guevara, perhaps Malara and Megia are the per- 
Gutierre de Cetina, Cozar, Fuentes, sons he refers to. 

El ingenioso Ortiz; — 9 See L. F. Moratin, Catalogo, No. 


who adds that there were otros muchos, 84. 
many more;—but they are all lost. 10 The **Semiramis” was printed at 


Cuap. VL] CHRISTOVAL DE VIRUES. 77 


subject is so handled that when Calderon used it again 
in his two plays. entitled “La Hija del Aire,” he could 
not help casting the cruel light of his own poetical 
genius on the: clumsy work of his predecessor. All 
four of them are absurd. 

The “Elisa Dido”’ is better, and may be regarded 
as an effort to elevate the drama. It is divided into 
five acts, and observes the unities, though Virues can 
hardly have comprehended what was afterwards con- 
sidered as their technical meaning. Its plot, invented 
by himself, and little connected with the stories found 
in Virgil or the old Spanish chronicles, supposes the 
Queen of Carthage to have died by her own hand for 
a faithful attachment to the memory of Sichzeus, and 
to avoid a marriage with Iarbas. It has no division 
into scenes,and éach act is burdened with a chorus. 
In short, it is an imitation of the ancient Greek mas- 
ters; and as some of the lyrical portions, as well as 
parts of the dialogue, are not unworthy the 
talent of the author of the “Monserrate,’ *it * 66 
is, for the age in which it appeared, a remark- 
able composition. But it lacks a good development of 
the characters, as well as life and poetical warmth in 


Leipzig in 1858, but published in Lon- 
don by Williams and Norgate. Its 
editor, whose name is not given, has 
in this rendered good service to early 
Spanish literature ; but if, by his cita- 
tion of Schack’s authority in the pref- 
ace, he desires to have it understood 
that that eminent critic concurs with 
him in regarding this wild play as 
a work of ‘‘extraordinary merit and 
value,” I think he can hardly have un- 
derstood Schack’s criticism on it (Dra- 
mat. Lit., Vol. I. p. 296). Certainly 
he had not seen the original and only 
edition of Virues, 1609; and, from the 
note at the end of his list of errata, he 
does not appear always to comprehend 
the text he publishes. For, if he had 
printed ‘fis’ (Jorn. III. v. 690) with a 


capital letter, as Virues did, he would 
have found that it was the river ‘‘ Is,” 
or the city ‘“‘Is” on its banks, both 
mentioned by Herodotus, (Lib. I. ¢. 
179,) near which was the abundance of 
asphalt referred to by Virues, and so 
the passage would have ceased to be 
‘‘unintelligible” to him; and if he 
had read carefully the passage, (Jorn. 
III. v. 632, etc.,) he would not have 
found ‘‘a line evidently wanting.” I 
rather think, too, that the editor of the 
‘*Semiramis” is wrong in supposing 
(Preface, p. xi) that Virues ‘‘got his 
learning at second hand”; and that he 
will find he was wrong, if he will turn 
to the passage in Herodotus from which 
the Spanish poet seems to me to-have 
taken his description of Babylon. 


78 CLASSICAL DRAMA ATTEMPTED. [Perrop IL, 


the action; and being, in fact, an attempt to carry the 
Spanish drama in a direction exactly opposite to that 
of its destiny, it did not succeed.” 

Such an attempt, however, was not unlikely to be 
made more than once; and this was certainly an age 
favorable for it. The theatre of the ancients was now 
known in Spain. The translations, already noticed, . 
of Villalobos in 1515, and of Oliva before 1530, had 
been followed, as early as 1540, by one from Euripides 
by Boscan ;*¥ in 1555, by two from Plautus, the work 
of an unknown author; and in 1570-1577, by the 
“Plutus” of Aristophanes, the “Medea” of Euripides, 
and the six comedies of Terence, by Pedro Simon de 
Abril* The efforts of Timoneda in his “ Menennos,” 
and of Virues in his “ Elisa Dido,’ were among the 
consequences of this state of things, and were suc- 
ceeded by others, two of which should be noticed. 

The first is by Gerdnimo Bermudez, a native of Ga- 
licia, who is supposed to have been born about 1530, 
and to have lived as late as 1589. He was a learned 
Professor of Theology at Salamanca, and published, 
at Madrid, in 1577, two dramas, which he some- 


what boldly called “the 


11 In the address to the ‘‘ Discreto 
Letor”’ prefixed to the only edition of 
the ‘‘Obras tragicas y liricas del Capi- 
tan Cristoval de Virues,” (that of Ma- 
drid, 1609, 12mo, ff. 278,) we are told 
that he had endeavored in the first four 
tragedies ‘‘to unite what was best in 
ancient art and modern customs”; but 
the Dido, he says, ‘‘ va escrita toda por 
el estilo de Griegos i Latinos con cui- 
dado y estudio.” See, also, L. F. Mo- 
ratin, Catalogo, Nos. 140, 141, 146, 
148, 149; with Martinez de la Rosa, 
Obras, Tom. II. pp. 153-167. The 
play of Andres Rey de Artieda, on the 
**Lovers of Teruel,” 1581, belongs to 
this period and place. Ximeno, Tom. 
I. p.°263 ; Fuster, Tom. I. p. 212. 

12 The translation of Boscan from 


first Spanish tragedies.” 


Euripides was never published, though 
it is included in the permission to print 
that poet’s works, given by Charles V, 
to Boscan’s widow, 18th February, 1543, 
prefixed to the first edition of his Works, 
which appeared that year at Barcelona. 
Boscan died in 1540. 

138 L. F. Moratin, Catalogo, Nos. 86 
and 87. 

14 Pellicer, Biblioteca de Traductores 
Espafioles, Tom. II. 145, ete. The 
translations from Terence by Abril, 
1577, are accompanied by the Latin 
text, and should seem, from the ‘‘ Pro- 
logo,”’ to have been made in the hope 
that they would directly tend to reform 
the Spanish theatre ;— perhaps even 
that they would be publicly acted. 

15 Sedano’s ‘‘ Parnaso Espafiol” (Tom. 


r 


Cuap. VIII.) GERONIMO BERMUDEZ. 79 


They are both on *the subject of Inez de *67 
Castro; both are in five acts, and in various 

verse; and both have choruses in the manner of the 
ancients. But there is a great difference in their re- 
spective merits. The first “Nise Lastimosa,’ or Inez 
to be Compassionated, — Nise being a poor anagram of 
Inez, — is hardly more than a skilful translation of the 
Portuguese tragedy of “Inez de Castro,” by Ferreira, 
which, with considerable defects in its structure, is yet 
full of tenderness and poetical beauty. The last, 
“Nise Laureada,” or Inez Triumphant, takes up the 
tradition where the first left it, after the violent and 
cruel death of the princess, and gives an account of 
the coronation of her ghastly remains above twenty 
years after their interment, and of the renewed mar- 
riage of the prince to them;—the closing scene ex- 
hibiting the execution of her murderers with a coarse- 
ness, both in the incidents and in the language, as re- 
volting as can well be conceived. Neither probably 
produced any perceptible effect on the Spanish drama; 
and yet the “ Nise Lastimosa” contains passages of no 
little poetical merit; such as the beautiful chorus on 
Love at the end of the first act, the dream of Inez in 
the third, and the truly Greek dialogue between the 
princess and the women of Coimbra; for the last two 


VI., 1772) contains both the dramas of 
Bermudez, with notices of his life. 

I think we have nothing else of Ber- 
mudez, except his ‘‘ Hesperodia,” a 
panegyric on the great Duke of Alva, 
written in 1589, after its author had 
travelled much, as he says, in France 
and Africa. It is a cold elegy, origi- 
nally composed in Latin, and not 
printed till it appeared in Sedano, Par- 
naso (Tom. VII., 1773, p. 149). Parts 
of it are somewhat obscure ; and of the 
whole, translated into Spanish to please 
a friend and that friend’s wife, the au- 
thor truly says that it is not so inter- 


esting that they ‘‘ will lose sleep by 
it.” Being a Galician, he hints, in the 


- Dedication of his ‘‘ Nise Lastimosa,”’ 


that Castilian was not easy to him. I 
find, however, no traces of awkward- 
ness in his manner, and his Gallego 
helped him in managing Ferreira’s Por- 
tuguese. The two tragedies, it should 
be noted, were published under the as- 
sumed name of Antonio de Silva ;— 
perhaps because he was a Dominican 
monk. The volume (Madrid, Sanchez, 
1577) is a mean one, and the type a 
poor sort of Italics. 


80 LUPERCIO LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA. [Penton IL 


of which, however, Bermudez was directly indebted 
to Ferreira." 

Three tragedies by Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola, 
the accomplished lyric poet, who will hereafter be am- 
ply noticed, produced a much more considerable sensa- 

tion when they first appeared, though they 
*68 were soon afterwards *as much neglected as 

their predecessors. He wrote them when he 
was hardly more than twenty years old, and they 
were acted about the year 1585. “ Do you not re- 
member,” says the canon in Don Quixote, “ that, a few 
years ago, there were represented in Spain three trage- 
dies composed by a famous poet of these kingdoms, 
which were such that they delighted and astonished 
all who heard them; the ignorant as well as the judi- 
cious, the multitude as well as the few; and that these 
three alone brought more profit to the actors than the 
thirty best plays that have been written since?”—“No 
doubt,” replied the manager of the theatre, with whom 
the canon was conversing, — “no doubt you mean the 
‘Isabela, the ‘ Philis,’ and the ‘ Alexandra.’ ” ” 

This statement of Cervantes is certainly extraordi- 
nary, and the more so from being put into the mouth 
of the wise canon of Toledo. But, notwithstanding 
the flush of immediate success which it implies, all 
trace of these plays was soon so completely lost that, 
for a long period, the name of the famous poet Cer- 
vantes had referred to was not known, and it was even 
suspected that he had intended to compliment himself. 
At last, between 1760 and 1770, two of them —the 
“ Alexandra” and “ Isabela” — were accidentally dis- 

16 The * Castro” of Antonio Ferreira, 12mo, Tom. II. pp. 123, etc.). Its au- 
one of the most pure and beautiful com- thor died of the plague at Lisbon, in 


positions in the Portuguese language, is 1569, only forty-one years old. 
found in his ‘* Poemas” (Lisboa, 1771, 17 Don Quixote, Parte I. c. 48. 


Cuar. VIII.] LUPERCIO LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA. 81 


covered, and all doubt ceased. They were found to be 
the work of Lupercio Leonardo de Argensola.* 

But, unhappily, they quite failed to satisfy the ex- 
pectations that had been excited by the good-natured 
praise of Cervantes. They are in various verse, fluent 
and pure; and were intended to be imitations of the 
Greek style of tragedy, called forth, perhaps, by the 
recent attempts of Bermudez. Each, however, is di- 
vided into three acts; and the choruses, origi- 
nally prepared for them, are *omitted. The 
Alexandra is the worse of the two. Its scene 
is laid in Egypt; and the story, which is fictitious, is 
full of loathsome horrors. Every one of its person- 
ages, except perhaps a messenger, perishes in the 
course of the action; children’s heads are cut off and 
thrown at their parents on the stage; and the false 
queen, after being invited to wash her hands in the 
blood of the person to whom she was unworthily at- 
tached, bites off her own tongue, and spits it at her 
monstrous husband. Treason and rebellion form the 
lights in a picture composed mainly of such atrocities. 

The Isabela is better; but still is not to be praised. 
The story relates to one of the early Moorish Kings of 
Saragossa, who exiles the Christians from his kingdom 
in a vain attempt to obtain possession of Isabela, a 
Christian maiden with whom he is desperately in love, 
but who is herself already attached to a noble Moor 
whom she has converted, and with whom, at last, she 


™69 


18 They first appeared in Sedano’s 
‘*Parnaso Espaiiol,” Tom. VI., 1772. 
All the needful explanations about them 
are in Sedano, Moratin, and Martinez 
dela Rosa. The ‘‘ Philis” has not been 
found. The MS. originals of the two 
published plays were, in 1772, in the 
Archives of the ‘‘ Escuelas Pias”’ ‘of the 
city of Balbastro, in Aragon, where 


VOL. II. 6 


they were deposited by the heir of L. 
Leonardo de Argensola. They are said 
to contain a better text than the MSS. 
used by Sedano, and ought, therefore, 
for the honor of the author, to be in- 
quired after. Sebastian de Latre, En- 
sayo sobre el Teatro Espafiol, folio, 
1773, Prologo. 


82 LUPERCIO LEONARDO DE ARGENSOLA.  [Pzriop II. 


suffers a triumphant martyrdom. The incidents are 
numerous, and sometimes well imagined; but no dra- 
matic skill is shown in their management and combina- 
tion, and there is little easy or living dialogue to give 
them effect. Like the Alexandra, it is full of horrors. 
The nine most prominent personages it represents 
come to an untimely end, and the bodies, or at least 
the heads, of most of them are exhibited on the stage, 
though some reluctance is shown, at the conclusion, 
about committing a supernumerary suicide before the — 
audience. Fame opens the piece with a prologue, in 
which complaints are made of the low state of the 
theatre; and the ghost of Isabela, who is hardly dead, 
comes back at the end with an epilogue very flat and 
quite needless. 

With all this, however, a few passages of poetical 
eloquence, rather than of absolute poetry, are scattered 
through the long and tedious speeches of which the 
piece is principally composed ; and once or twice there 
is a touch of passion truly tragic, as in the discussion 
between Isabela and her family on the threatened 
exile and ruin of their whole race, and in that be- 

tween Adulce, her lover, and Aja, the king’s 
*70 sister, who disinterestedly loves * Adulce, not- 

withstanding she knows his passion for her fair 
Christian rival. But still it seems incomprehensible how 
such a piece should have produced the popular dra- 
matic effect attributed to it, unless we suppose that the 
Spaniards had from the first a passion for theatrical exhi- 
bitions, which, down to this period, had been so imper- 
fectly gratified, that anything dramatic, produced under 
favorable circumstances, was run after and admired.” 


19 There are several old ballads on ‘‘ Uber eine Sammlung Spanischer Ro- 
the subject of this play. See Wolf, manzen” (Wien, 1850, pp. 38, 34); 


Cuap. VIII.] 83 


STATE OF THE THEATRE. ' 


The dramas of Argensola, by their date, though not 
by their character and spirit, bring us at once within 
the period which opens with the great and prevalent 
names of Cervantes and Lope de Vega. They, there- 
fore, mark the extreme limits of the history of the 
early Spanish theatre; and if we now look back and 
consider its condition and character during the long 
period we have just gone over, we shall easily come to 
three conclusions of some consequence.” 

The first is, that the attempts to form and develop 
a national drama in Spain have been few and rare. 
During the two centuries following the first notice 
of it, about 1250, we cannot learn distinctly that any- 
thing was undertaken but rude exhibitions in panto- 
mime; though it is not unlikely dialogues may some- 
times have been added, such as we find in the more 
imperfect religious pageants produced at the same 
period in England and France. During the next 
century, which brings us down to the time of Lope de 
Rueda, we have nothing better than “ Mingo Revulgo,” 
which is rather a spirited political satire than a drama, 
Enzina’s and Vicente’s dramatic eclogues, and 
Naharro’s more dramatic “ Propaladia,’ * witha *71 
few translations from the ancients which were 
little noticed or known. And during the half-century 
which Lope de Rueda opened with an attempt to 


but the historical tradition is in the 
‘*Cronica General,” Parte III. c. 22, 
ed. 1604, ff. 83, 84. 

20 It seems probable that a consider- 
able number of dramas belonging to 
the period between Lope de Rueda and 
Lope de Vega, or between 1560 and 
1590, could even now be collected, 
whose names have not yet been given 
to the public ; but it is not likely that 
they would add anything important to 
our knowledge of the real character or 
progress of the drama at that time. 


Aribau, Biblioteca, Tom. II. pp. 163, 
225, notes. The names of many such 
— part of them in Spanish, part in 
Latin, and part in both languages, but 
all akin to the old Mysteries and Autos 
—may be found in the Spanish trans- 
lation of this History, Tom. II. pp. 
543-550. <A considerable number of 
them seem to have been represented in 
religious houses, where, as we know, a 
more secular drama afterwards intruded 
and found much favor. 


84 ‘ STATE OF THE THEATRE. [Perrop II. 


create a popular drama, we have obtained only a few 
farces from himself and his followers, the little that was 
done at Seville and Valencia, and the countervailing 
tragedies of Bermudez and Argensola, who intended, 
no doubt, to follow what they considered the safer and 
more respectable traces of the ancient Greek masters. 
Three centuries and a half, therefore, or four centuries, 
furnished less dramatic literature to Spain than the 
last half-century of the same portion of time had fur- 
nished to France and Italy; and near the end of the 
whole period, or about 1585, it is apparent that the 
national genius was not so much turned towards the 
drama as it was at the same period in England, where 
Greene and Peele were just preparing the way for 
Marlowe and Shakespeare. 

In the next place, the apparatus of the stage, includ- 
ing scenery and dresses, was very imperfect. During 
the greater part of the period we have gone over, 
dramatic exhibitions in Spain were either religious 
pantomimes shown off in the churches to the people, 
or private entertainments given at court and in the 
houses of the nobility. Lope de Rueda brought them 
out into the public squares, and adapted them to the 
comprehension, the taste, and the humors of the mul- 
titude. But he had no theatre anywhere, and his 
gay farces were represented on temporary scaffolds, by 
his own company of strolling players, who stayed but 
a few days at a time in even the largest cities, and 
were sought, when there, chiefly by the lower classes 
of the people. 

The first notice, therefore, we have of anything 
approaching to a regular establishment— and this is far 
removed from what that phrase generally implies — is 
in 1568, when an arrangement or compromise between 


Cuar. VIII] STATE OF THE THEATRE. 85 


the Church and the theatre was begun, traces of which 
have subsisted at Madrid and elsewhere down to our 
own times. Recollecting, no doubt, the origin of dra- 
matic representations in Spain for religious edification, 
the government ordered, in form, that no actors 
should make an * exhibition in Madrid, except * 72 
in some place to be appointed by two religious 
brotherhoods designated in the decree, and for a rent 
to be paid to them;—an order in which, after 1583, 
the general hospital of the city was included” Under 
this order, as it was originally made, we find plays 
acted from 1568; but only in the open area of a court- 
yard, corral, without roof, seats, or other apparatus, ex- 
cept such as is humorously described by Cervantes to 
have been packed, with all the dresses of the company, 
in a few large sacks. 

In this state things continued several years. None 
but strolling companies of actors were known, and they 
remained but a few days at a time even in Madrid. 
No fixed place was prepared for their reception; but 
sometimes they were sent by the pious brotherhoods 
to one court-yard, and sometimes to another. They 
acted in the daytime, on Sundays and other holidays, 
and then only if the weather permitted a performance 
in the open air;—the women separated from the 
men,” and the entire audience so small, that the profit 
yielded by the exhibitions to the religious societies and 
the hospital rose only to eight or ten dollars each 
time” At last, in 1579 and 1583, two court-yards 
were permanently fitted up for them, belonging to 


21 The two brotherhoods were the by C. Pellicer in his ‘‘ Origen de la 
Cofradia de la Sagrada Pasion, estab- Comedia en Espafia.” But they can 
lished 1565, and the Cofradia de la So- be found so well nowhere else. See 
ledad, established 1567. The accounts Tom. I. pp. 43-77. 
of the early beginnings of the theatre 22 C. Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 83. 
at Madrid are awkwardly enough given %\Tbid., p: 56. 


86 STATE OF THE THEATRE. [Pertop IL. 


houses in the streets of the “Principe” and “ Cruz.” 
But, though a rude stage and benches were provided 
in each, a roof was still wanting; the spectators all sat 
in the open air, or at the windows of the house whose 
court-yard was used for the representation; and the 
actors performed under a slight and poor awning, with- 
out anything that deserved to be called scenery. The 
theatres, therefore, at Madrid, as late as 1586, could 
not be said to be in a condition materially to further 
any efforts that might be made to produce a respecta- 
ble national drama. 
In the last place, the pieces that had been writ- 
ten had not the decided, common character 
*73 on which a national *drama could be fairly 
founded, even if their number had been greater. 
Juan de la Enzina’s eclogues, which were the first 
dramatic compositions represented in Spain by actors 
who were neither priests nor cavaliers, were really 
what they were called, though somewhat modified 
in their bucolic character by religious and _ political 
feelings and events ;— two or three of Naharro’s plays, 
and several of those of Cueva, give more absolute 
intimations of the intriguing and historical character 
of the stage, though the effect of the first at home 
was delayed, from their being for a long time pub- 
lished only in Italy; — the translations from the 
ancients by Villalobos, Oliva, Abril, and others, seem 
hardly to have been intended for representation, and 
certainly not for popular effect ; — and Bermudez, with 
one of his pieces stolen from the Portuguese and the 
other full of horrors of his own, was, it is plain, little 
thought of at his first appearance, and soon quite 
neglected. 
There were, therefore, before 1586, only two persons 


Cuar. VIII.) TENDENOY TO A BETTER DRAMA. 87 


to whom it was possible to look for the establishment 
of a popular and permanent drama. The first of them 
was Argensola, whose three tragedies enjoyed a degree 
of success before unknown; but they were so little in 
the national spirit, that they were early overlooked, and 
soon completely forgotten. The other was Lope de 
Rueda, who, himself an actor, wrote such farces as he 
found would amuse the common audiences he served, 
and thus created a school in which other actors, like 
Alonso de la Vega and Cisneros, wrote the same kind 
of farces, chiefly in prose, and intended so completely 
for temporary effect, that hardly one of them has come 
down to our own times. Of course, the few and rare 
efforts made before 1586 to produce a drama in Spain 
had been made upon such various or contradictory 
principles, that they could not be combined so as to 
constitute the safe foundation for a national theatre. 
But, though the proper foundation was not yet laid, 
all was tending to it and preparing forit. The stage, 
rude as it was, had still the great advantage of being 
confined to two spots, which, it is worth notice, 
have *continued to be the sites of the two * 74 
principal theatres of Madrid ever since. The 
number of authors, though small, was yet sufficient to 
create so general a taste for theatrical representations 
that Lopez Pinciano, a learned man, and one of a tem- 
per little likely to be pleased with a rude drama, said, 
“When I see that Cisneros or Galvez is going to act, I 
run all risks to hear him; and, when IJ am in the the- 
atre, winter does not freeze me, nor summer make me 
hot.” And finally, the public, who resorted to the 


24 Philosophia Antigua Poeticade A. Cabrera, Felipe II., Madrid, 1619, folio, 
L. Pinciano, Madrid, 1596, 4to, p. 128. yp. 470. This quarrel is a part of the 
Cisneros was a famous actor of the time drama of Pedro Ximenez de Anciso 
of Philip II., about whom Don Carlos (sic), entitled El Principe Don Carlos, 
had a quarrel with Cardinal Espinosa. where it is set forth in Jornada II. 


88 TENDENCY TO A BETTER DRAMA. 


[Periop II. 


imperfect entertainments offered them, if they had not 
determined what kind of drama should become na- 
tional, had yet decided that a national drama should 
be formed, and that it should be founded on the na- 
tional character and manners. 


(Parte XXVIII. de Comedias de varios 
autores, Huesca, 1634, f. 183, a). Cis- 
neros flourished 1579-1586. C. Pel- 
licer, Origen, Tom. I. pp. 60, 61. Lope 
de Vega speaks of him with great ad- 
miration, as an actor ‘‘ beyond compare 
since plays were known.” Peregrino 
en su Patria, ed. 1604, f. 263. 

During the period just gone over — 
that between the death of Lope de 
Rueda and the success of Lope de Vega 
—the traces of whatever regards the 
theatre are to be best found in Mora- 
tin’s ‘‘Catalogo” (Obras, 1830, Tom. 
I. pp. 192-300). But there were many 
more rude efforts made than he has 
chronicled, though none of consequence. 
Gayangos, in the Spanish translation 
of this History, (see note 20 of this 
chap.,) has collected the titles of a 


good many, and could, no doubt, easily 
have collected more, if they had been 
worth the trouble. Some of those he 
records have been printed, but more 
are in manuscript ; some are in Latin, 
some in Spanish, and some in both lan- 
guages; some are religious, and some 
secular. Many of them were probably 
represented in religious houses, in the 
colleges of the Jesuits, and in convents, 
on occasions of ceremony, like the elec- 
tion of a Bishop, or the canonization of 
a Saint. Of others no account can be 
given. But all of them taken together 
give no intimation of a different state 
of the drama from that already suffi- 
ciently described. We see, indeed, from 
them very plainly that it was a period 
of change; but we see nothing else, 
except that the change was very slow. 


eS ee ee 


—_—— = 


| 
3 
: 





“OH APTEH R EXE bag? 


LUIS DE LEON.—EARLY LIFE. — PERSECUTIONS. — TRANSLATION OF THE CAN- 
TICLES.— NAMES OF CHRIST.— PERFECT WIFE AND OTHER PROSE WORKS. 
— HIS DEATH.—HIS POEMS.— HIS CHARACTER. 


It should not be forgotten that, while we have gone 
over the beginnings of the Italian school and of the 
existing theatre, we have had little occasion to notice 
one distinctive element of the Spanish character, 
which is yet almost constantly present in the great 
mass of the national literature: I mean the religious 
element. A reverence for the Church, or, more prop- 
erly, for the religion of the Church, and a deep senti- 
ment of devotion, however mistaken in the forms it 
wore, or in the direction it took, had been developed 
in the old Castilian character by the wars against 
Islamism, as much as the spirit of loyalty and knight- 
hood, and had, from the first, found no less fitting 
poetical forms of expression. That no change took 
place in this respect in the sixteenth century, we find 
striking proof in the character of a distinguished 
Spaniard, who lived about twenty years later than 
Diego de Mendoza, but one whose gentler and graver 
genius easily took the direction which that of the elder 
cavalier so decidedly refused. 

I refer, of course, to Luis Ponce de Leon, called, 
from his early and unbroken connection with the 
Church, “ Brother Luis de Leon,” — Fray Luis de Leon. 
He was born in Belmonte, in 1528, and lived there un- 
til he was five or six years old, when his father, who 


90 


LUIS DE LEON. [Perron II. 
was a “king’s advocate,” removed his family first to 
Madrid, and then to Valladolid. The young poet's 
advantages for education were such as were enjoyed at 
that time only by persons whose position in society 
was a favored one; and, at fourteen, he was 
*76 sent to the neighboring * University of Sala- 
manca, where, following the strong religious 
tendencies of his nature, he entered a monastery of the 
order of Saint Augustin. From this moment the final 
direction was given to his life. He never ceased to be 
a monk; and he never ceased to be attached to the 
University where he was bred. In 1560 he became a 
Licentiate in Theology, and immediately afterwards 
was made a Doctor of Divinity. The next year, at the 
age of thirty-four, he obtained the chair of Saint 
Thomas Aquinas, which he won after a public compe- 
tition against several opponents, four of whom were 
already professors; and to these honors he added, ten 
years later, that of the chair of Sacred Literature. 

By this time, however, his influence and considera- 
tion had gathered round him a body of enemies, who 
diligently sought means of disturbing his position.’ 
The chief of them were either leading monks of the 
rival order of Saint Dominick at Salamanca, with whom 
he seems to have had, from time to time, warm discus- 


1 Obras del Maestro Fray Luis de 
Leon, (Madrid, 1804-1816, 6 tom. 
8vo,) Tom. V. p. 292. But in the 
very rich and important ‘‘ Coleccion 
de Documentos ineditos para la His- 
toria de Espattia por D. Miguel Salva y 
D. Pedro Sainz de Baranda” (Tomos 
X., XI., Madrid, 1847-8, 8vo) is to 
be found the entire official record of 
the trial of Luis de Leon, taken from 
the Archives of the Inquisition at Val- 
ladolid, and now in the National Li- 
brary at Madrid ;— by far the most 
important authentic statement known 
to me respecting the treatment of men 
of letters who were accused before that 


formidable tribunal, and probably the 
most curious and important one in ex- 
istence, whether in MS. or in print. 
Its multitudinous documents fill more 
than nine hundred pages, everywhere 
teeming with instruction and warning, 
on the subject of ecclesiastical usurpa- 
tions, and the noiseless, cold, subtle 
means by which they crush the intel- 
lectual freedom and healthy culture of 
a people. For the enmity of the Do- 
minicans —in whose hands was the In- 
quisition—to Luis de Leon, and for 
the jealousy of his deteated competitors, 
see these Documentos, Tom. X. p. 100, 
and many other places. 


Cuar. IX.] LUIS DE LEON. ‘OT 


sions in the public halls of the University, or else 
they were the competitors whom he had defeated 
in open contest for the high offices he had obtained. 
In each case the motives of his adversaries were 
obvious. 

With such persons, an opportunity for an attack 
would soon be found. The pretext first seized upon 
was that he had made a translation of the Song of 
Solomon into Castilian, treating it as if it were an 
eclogue. ‘To this was soon added the suggestion that, 
in his discussions in “the Schools” or public 
halls of the University, he *had declared the * 77 
Vulgate version of the Bible to be capable of 
improvement. And, finally, it was imtimated that 
while, on the one side, he had leaned to new and 
dangerous opinions, — meaning Lutheranism, — on the 
other side, he had shown a tendency to Jewish inter- 
pretations of the Scriptures, in consequence of a 
Hebrew taint in his blood, — always odious in the 
eyes of those Spaniards who could boast that their 
race was pure, and their descent orthodox, 

The first formal denunciation of him was made at 
Salamanca, before Commissaries of the Holy Office, on 
the seventeenth of December, 1571. But, at the out- 
set, everything was done in the strictest secrecy, and 
wholly without the knowledge or suspicion of the ac- 
cused. In the course of this stage of the process, 
about twenty witnesses were examined at Salamanca, 
who made their statements in writing, and the testi- 
mony of others was sent for to Granada, Valladolid, 
Murcia, Carthagena, Arévalo, and Toledo; so that, 
from the beginning, the affair took the character it 
preserved to the last, — that of a wide-spread con- 

* Documentos, Tom. X. pp. 6, 12, 19, 146-174, 207, 208, 449-467. 


92° LUIS DE LEON. [Perrop II. 


spiracy against a person whom it was not safe to as- 
sail without the most cautious and thorough prepara- 
tion.” 

At last, when all was ready, the bolt fell. On the 
sixth of March, 1572, he was personally summoned 
before the Tribunal of the Inquisition at Salamanca, and 
accused of having made and circulated a vernacular 
translation of Solomon’s Song ; — the other complaints 
being apparently left to be urged or not, as might 
afterwards be deemed expedient. His answer—which, 
in the official process, 1s technically, but most unjustly, 
called his “ confession,’ when, in fact, it is his defence 
— was instant, direct, and sincere. He avowed, with- 
out hesitation, that he had made such a translation as 
was imputed to him, but that he had made it for a nun 
[wna reigiosa|, to whom he had personally carried it, 
and from whom he had personally received it back 

again soon afterward ;—that, unknown to him, 
*78 it had subsequently *been copied by a friar 

having charge of his cell, and so had come into 
secret circulation ;— that he had vainly endeavored to 
stop its further diffusion, by collecting the various 
transcripts that had been thus surreptitiously and 
fraudulently made ; — and that his feeble health alone 
had hindered him from completing — what he had 
already begun—a Latin version of the book in 
question, with a commentary, setting forth his opinions 
concerning it in such a way as to leave no doubt 
of their strict orthodoxy. At the same time he. de- 
clared, by the most explicit and solemn words, his 
unconditional submission to the authority of the Holy 
Office, and his devout purpose, in all respects, and 


3 Documentos, Tom. X. pp. 26, 31, his translation of Solomon’s Song had 
74, 78, 81, 92. Later, they sent for wandered, p. 505. 
testimony to Cuzco, in Peru, whither 


Cuarp. IX.] LUIS DE LEON. 93 


at all times, to cherish and defend all the doctrines 
and dogmas of the Roman Catholic Church.* 

At this point in the inquiry, —and after this full 
declaration of the accused,—if there had been no 
motives for the investigation but such as were avowed, 
the whole affair would, no doubt, have been stopped, 
and nothing more would have been heard of it. But 
this was far from the case. His enemies were personal, 
bitter, and unscrupulous; and they had spread wide 
the suspicion —as was done in relation to his friend 
Arias Montano — that his great biblical learning was 
fast leading him to heresy; if, indeed, he were not 
already at heart a Protestant. His examination, there- 
fore, was pushed on with unrelenting severity. His 
cause was removed from Salamanca to the higher 
tribunal at Valladolid; and, on the twenty-seventh of 
March, 1572, he was arrested and confined in the 
secret prisons [carceles secretas] of the Inquisition, 
where, for a time, he was denied the use of a knife 
to cut his food, and where he at no period obtained 
a sheet of paper or a book, except on the especial, re- 
corded permission of the judges before whom he was 
on trial. The other accusations, too, were now urged 
against him by his persecutors, though, at last, none 
were relied upon for his conviction save those regard- 
ing the Song of Solomon and the Vulgate. 

But to all the charges, and to all the insinuations 
against him, as they were successively brought 
up, he replied with * sincerity, distinctness, and * 79 
power. Above fifty times he was summoned in 
person before his judges, and the various defences 
which he read on these occasions, and which are still 


* Documentos, Tom. X. pp. 9-101. to be ‘‘a divine pastoral drama.” So 
Milton, also, (Church Government, Book have many others, both learned and 
II., Introd.,) considers Solomon’s Song religious. 


94 LUIS DE LEON. [Perrop II. 


extant in his own handwriting, make above two 
hundred printed pages, — not, indeed, marked with 
the rich eloquence which elsewhere flows so easily 
from his pen, but still written in the purest Castilian, 
and with extraordinary acuteness and perspicacity.° 

At last, when all the resources of ecclesiastical inge- 
nuity had been employed, in vain, for nearly five years, 
to break his firm though gentle spirit, the judgment 
of his seven judges was pronounced on the twenty- 
eighth of September, 1576. It was a very strange 
one. Four of their number voted that “he should be 
put to the rack [quistion de tormento], to ascertain his 
mtentions in relation to whatever had been indicated 
and testified against him; but,” they added, “that the 
rack should be applied moderately, from regard to the 
delicate health of the accused, and that, afterwards, 
further order should be taken in the case.” ‘Two more 
of his judges were of opinion that he should be rebuked 
in the Halls of the Holy Office, for having ventured, 
at such a time, to move matters tending to danger and 
scandal ;— that, in presence of all persons belonging 
to the University, he should confess certain proposi- 
tions gathered out of his papers to be “suspicious and 
ambiguous”; — and, finally, that he should be forbid- 
den from all public teaching whatsoever. One of the 
judges asked leave to give his opinion separately ; but 
whether he ever did or not, and, if he did, whether it 
was more or less severe than the opinions of his coadju-. 
tors, does not appear. 


5 In all cases of trial before the tri- 
bunal of the Inquisition, though the 
written statements of the witnesses 
might be given to the party accused, 
their names never were. Luis de Leon 
had the anonymous testimony of his 
enemies before him, and, from internal 
evidence, often conjectured who they 
were, naming them boldly, and treat- 


ing them sometimes with no little se- 
verity for their injustice and falsehood. 
Throughout the trial he showed a gen- 
uine simplicity of heart, a careful, wise 
logic, and an unshaken resolution. 
Documentos, Tom. X. pp. 317, 326, 
357, 368-3871, 423, 495, and other 
passages. 


Cuap. IX.] LUIS DE LEON. 95 


But all of them—even the least harsh — were 
wholly unjustified by any proof brought against the 
prisoner, or by anything shown in his spirit 
during the trial. Indeed, * the lightest punish- * 80 
ment proposed implied a complete degradation 
and disgrace of the devout monk, while the punish- 
ment proposed by the majority of the tribunal de- 
manded a degree of cruelty which his feeble frame 
could hardly have endured. Happily, he was com- 
pelled to undergo neither sentence. The members of 
the Supreme Council of the Inquisition at Madrid, who 
had been repeatedly consulted on different points in 
the trial, as it went on, showed their accustomed cold, 
impassive caution in their final judgment; for they 
passed over everything previously done in absolute 
silence; and, by a new and solemn decree, of Decem- 
ber 7, 1576, decided that the accused, Luis de Leon, be 
fully acquitted [absuelo de la nstancia deste jucio)|, being 
previously warned to be circumspect both how and 
where he should discuss hereafter such matters as had 
given rise to his trial, and to observe, in relation to 
them, great moderation and prudence, so that all 
scandal and occasion of error might cease; and re- 
quiring, furthermore, that his vernacular translation of 
Solomon’s Song should be suppressed. This final de- 
cree having been announced to him in form, at Valla- 
dolid, he was forthwith released from prison, not, how- 
ever, without the customary caution to bear no ill-will 
against any person whom he might suspect to have 
testified against him, and to observe absolute secrecy 
concerning whatever related to his trial, under pain of 
full excommunication, and such other punishments as 
might be deemed needful ; — to all which, by his sign- 
manual, he gave a promise of true obedience and sub- 


96 LUIS DE LEON. [Perrop II. 


mission, which, there is every reason to believe, he 
faithfully kept.® 

Thus was ended this extraordinary and cruel trial, 
whose minute details and discussions, spread over its 
voluminous original documents, show —as can be 
shown by no general statement of its course — how 
acute, wary, and unscrupulous was the Inquisition in 

persecuting men of the highest gifts, and of the 
“81 most submissive religious * obedience, if they 

were either obnoxious to the jealousy and ill- 
will of its members, or suspected of discussing ques- 
tions that might disturb the sharply defined faith 
exacted from every subject of the Spanish crown. 
But more and worse than this, the very loyalty with 
which Luis de Leon bowed himself down before the 
dark and unrelenting tribunal, into whose presence he 
had been summoned, — sincerely acknowledging its 
right to all the powers it claimed, and submitting faith- 
fully to all its decrees, — is the saddest proof that can 
be given of the subjugation to which intellects the 
most lofty and cultivated had been reduced by ecclesi-, 
astical tyranny, and the most disheartening augury of 
the degradation of the national character, that was 
sure to follow. 

But the University remained faithful to Luis de 
Leon through all his trials ;— so far faithful, at least, 
that his academical offices were neither filled by oth- 
ers, nor declared vacant. As soon, therefore, as he 
emerged from the cells of the Inquisition, he appeared 
again in the old halls of Salamanca; and it 1s a beauti-: 
ful circumstance attending his restoration, that when, 

6 Documentos, Tom. XI. pp. 351- four officers of that high and mysterious 
357. The sentence of the Supreme tribunal, —(the highest in Spain,) — 


Council of the Inquisition is certified the secretary alone certifying it openly 
by the four private marks [rubricas] of by his name. 


97 


Cuap. IX.] LUIS DE LEON. 


on the thirtieth of December, 1576, he rose for the 
first time in his accustomed place before a crowded 
audience, eager to hear what allusion he would make 
to his persecutions, he began by simply saying, “As 
we remarked when we last met,’ and then went on 
as if the five bitter years of his imprisonment had been 
a blank in his memory, bearing no record of the cruel 
treatment he had suffered. 

It seems, however, to have been thought advisable 
that he should vindicate his reputation from the sus- 
picions that had been cast upon it; and, therefore, in 
1580, at the request of his friends, he published an 
extended commentary on the Canticles, interpreting 
each part in three different ways, — directly, symbol- 
ically, and mystically, — and giving the whole as theo- 
logical and obscure a character as the most orthodox 
could desire, though still without concealing his opin- 
ion that its most obvious form is that of a pastoral 
eclogue.’ 

* Another work on the same subject, but in * 82 
‘Spanish, and in most respects like the one that 
had caused his imprisonment, was also prepared by 
him, and found among his manuscripts after his death. 
But it was not thought advisable to print it till 1798. 
Even then a version of the Canticles, in Spanish oc- 


7 A Spanish poetical paraphrase of 
Solomon's Song was made at about the 
same time, and on the same principle, 
by Arias Montano, the biblical scholar. 
When it was first published, I do not 
know ; but it may be found in Faber’s 
Floresta, No. 717; and, though it is 
diffuse, parts of it are beautiful. From 
several passages in the trial of Luis de 
Leén, it is certain that there was a 
good deal of intercourse between him 
and Montano, and even that they had 
conferred together about this portion of 
the Scriptures. It is, moreover, one 
of the significant facts in the trial of 
Luis de Leon that, being in the car- 


VOL. II. 7 


celes secretas at Valladolid, he was led 
to believe, in 1574, that Montano was 
dead, though he did not die till 1598, 
twenty-four years afterwards. Now, 
this could hardly have occurred, strict- 
ly cut off as Luis de Leon was from all 
external intercourse, except through the 
officers of the Inquisition, nor for any 
purpose except that of leading Luis de 
Leon to compromise his friend Montano, 
who, as we know, escaped with diffi- 
culty from the clutches of the Holy 
Office, who long sought grounds for de- 
stroying him. Documentos, Tom. XI. 
pp. 18, 19, 215, etc. 


98 LUIS DE LEON. [Periop II. 


taves, as an eclogue, intended originally to accompany 
it, was not added, and did not appear till 1806;—a 
beautiful translation, which discovers, not only its 
author’s power as a poet, but the remarkable freedom 
of his theological inquiries, in a country where such 
freedom was, in that age, not tolerated for an instant.’ 
The fragment of a defence of this version, or of some 
parts of it, is dated from his prison, in 1573, and was 
found long afterwards among the state papers of the 
kingdom in the archives of Simancas.’ 

While in prison he prepared a long prose work, 
which he entitled “The Names of Christ.” It is a 
singular specimen at once of Spanish theological learn- 
ing, eloquence, and devotion. Of this, between 1583 
and 1585, he published three books, but he never com- 
pleted it.” It is thrown into the form of a dialogue, 
like the “Tusculan Questions,’ which it was probably 
intended to imitate; and its purpose is, by means of 
successive discussions of the character of the Saviour, 
as set forth under the names of Son, Prince, Shepherd, 
King, etc., to excite devout feelings in those who read 

it. The form, however, is not adhered to with 
*83 great strictness. The *dialogue, instead of 

being a discussion, 1s, In fact, a succession of 
speeches; and once, at least, we have a regular ser- 
mon, of as much merit, perhaps, as any in the lan- 
guage ;" so that, taken together, the entire work may 
be regarded as a series of declamations on the charac- 
ter of Christ, as that character was regarded by the 
more devout portions of the Spanish Church in its 


8 Luis de Leon, Obras, Tom. V. pp. in the version first published in 1798. 
258-280. <A passage from the original See Obras, Tom. V. pp. 1-31. 


prose Castilian version of Solomon’s 2 Thid.yyrom Vi. p//281; 
Song by Luis de Leon is printed in his 10 Tbid., Tom. III. and IV. ° 
trial (Documentos, Tom. X. pp. 449—- 11 This sermon is in Book First of 


467). It differs, though not essential- the treatise. Obras, Tom. III. pp. 
ly, from the same passage as it stands ~160-214. 


Cuar. 1X] LUIS DE LEON. 99 


author’s time. Many parts of it are eloquent, and its 
eloquence has not unfrequently the gorgeous coloring 
of the elder Spanish literature; such, for instance, as 
is found in the following passage, illustrating the title 
of Christ as the Prince of Peace, and proving the 
beauty of all harmony in the moral world from its 
analogies with the physical :— 

‘“‘ Hven if reason should not prove it, and even if we 
could in no other way understand how gracious a thing 
is peace, yet would this fair show of the heavens over 
our heads, and this harmony in all their manifold fires, 
sufficiently bear witness to it. For what is it but 
peace, or, indeed, a perfect image of peace, that we 
now behold, and that fills us with such deep joy? 
Since if peace is, as Saint Augustin, with the brevity 
of truth, declares it to be, a quiet order, or the mainte- 
nance of a well-regulated tranquillity in whatever 
order demands, — then what we now witness is surely 
its true and faithful image. For while these hosts 
of stars, arranged and divided into their several 
bands, shine with such surpassing splendor, and while 
each one of their multitude inviolably maintains its 
separate station, neither pressing into the place of 
that next to it, nor disturbing the movements of any 
other, nor forgetting its own; none breaking the 
eternal and holy law God has imposed on it; but all 
rather bound in one brotherhood, ministering one to 
another, and reflecting their light one to another, — 
they do surely show forth a mutual love, and, as it 
were, a mutual reverence, tempering each other’s 
brightness and strength into a peaceful unity and 
power, whereby all their different influences are 
combined into one holy and mighty harmony, uni- 
versal and everlasting. And therefore may it be most 


100 LUIS DE LEON. [Pertop IL. 


*84 truly said, not *only that they do all form a 

fair and perfect model of peace, but that they 
all set forth and announce, in clear and gracious words, 
what excellent things peace contains within herself, 
and carries abroad whithersoever her power ex- 
tends.” 

The eloquent treatise on the Names of Christ was 
not, however, the most popular of the prose works of 
Luis de Leon. This distinction belongs to his “ Per- 
fecta Casada,” or Perfect Wife; a treatise which he 
composed, in the form of a commentary on some por- 
tions of Solomon’s Proverbs, for the use of a lady newly 
married, and which was first published in 1583.% But 
it 1s not necessary specially to notice either this work, 
or his Exposition of Job, in two volumes, accompanied 
with a poetical version, which he began in prison for 
his own consolation, and finished the year of his death, 
but which none ventured to publish till 1779.* Both 
are marked with the same humble faith, the same 
strong enthusiasm, and the same elaborate, rich elo- 
quence, that appear, from time to time, in the work 
on the Names of Christ; though perhaps the last, 
which received the careful corrections of its author’s 
matured genius, has a serious and settled power greater 


12 Obras, Tom. III. pp. 342, 343. with notes 6, 12, and 25.) But Luis 


This beautiful passage may well be 
compared to his more beautiful ode, 
entitled ‘‘ Noche Serena,” to which it 
has an obvious resemblance. Luis de 
Leon, like most other successful au- 
thors, wrote with great care. In the 
letter to his friend Puerto Carrero, 
prefixed to the Third Book of the 
‘*Nombres de Christo,” he explains, 
with not a little spirit, his reasons for 
writing in Spanish, and not in Latin, 
which it seems had been made matter 
of reproach to him. This was in 1585, 
the same year that the works of Oliva 
were published, written in Spanish and 
defended as such. (See ante, Chap. V. 


de Leon goes farther than Oliva did, 
and shows how difficult it is to write 
well in Spanish. ‘‘ El bien hablar,” 
he says, ‘‘no es comun, sino negocio 
de particular juicio, asi en lo que se 
dice, como en la manera como se dice ; 
y negocio que de las ‘palabras que 
todos hablan, elige las que convienen 
y mira el sonido dellas, y aun cuenta 
a veces las letras, y las pese, y las mide, 
y las compone, para que no solamente 
digan con claridad lo que se: pretende 
decir, sino tambien con armonia y dul- 
ura.” 

18 Ibid., Tom. IV. 

14 Tbid., Tom. I. and IT. 


Cuap. IX.] LUIS DE LEON. 101 


than he has shown anywhere else. But the character- 
istics of his prose compositions — even those which 
from their nature are the most strictly didactic — are 
the same everywhere; and the rich language and 
imagery of the passage already cited afford a fair 
specimen of the style towards which he constantly 
directed his efforts. 

Luis de Leon’s health never recovered from the 
shock it suffered in the cells of the Inquisition. He — 
lived, indeed, nearly fourteen years after his release ; 
but most of his works, whether in Castilian or in Latin, 
were written before his imprisonment or during its 
continuance, while those he undertook afterwards, 
like his account of Santa Teresa and some others, 
were * never finished. His life was always, from *85 
choice, very retired, and his austere manners 
were announced by his habitual reserve and silence. 
In a letter that he sent with his poems to his friend 
Puerto Carrero, a statesman at the court of Philip the 
Second and a member of the principal council of the 
Inquisition, he says, that, in the kingdom of Old Castile, 
where he had lived from his youth, he could hardly 
claim to be familiarly acquainted with ten persons.” 
Still he was extensively known, and was held in great 
honor. In the latter part of his life especially, his 
talents and sufferings, his religious patience and his 
sincere faith, had consecrated him in the eyes alike of 
his friends and his enemies. Nothing relating to the 
monastic brotherhood of which he was a member, or to 
the University where he taught, was undertaken with- 
out his concurrence and support; and when he died, 
in 1591, he was in the exercise of a constantly increas- 
ing influence, having just been chosen the head of his 





16 Obras, Tom. VI. p. 2. 


102 LUIS DE LEON. [Purtop Il. 


Order, and being engaged in the preparation of new 
regulations for its reform.”® 
But, besides the character in which we have thus 
far considered him, Luis de Leon was a poet, and a 
poet of no common genius. He seems, it is true, to 
have been little conscious, or, at least, little careful, of 
his poetical talent; for he made hardly an effort to 
cultivate it, and never took pains to print anything, in 
order to prove its existence to the world. Perhaps, 
too, he showed more deference than was due to the 
opinion of many persons of his time, who thought 
poetry an occupation not becoming one in his position ; 
for, in the prefatory notice to his sacred odes, he 
*86 says, In a deprecating * tone, “Let none regard 
verse as anything new and unworthy to be ap- 
plied to Scriptural subjects, for it is rather appropriate 
to them; and so old is it in this application, that, from 
the earliest ages of the Church to the present day, 
men of great learning and holiness have thus employed 
it. And would to God that no other poetry were ever 
sounded in our ears; that only these sacred tones were 
sweet to us; that none else were heard at night in 
the streets and public squares; that the child might 
still lisp it, the retired damsel find in it her best solace, 
and the industrious tradesman make it the relief of his 
toil! But the Christian name is now sunk to such 
immodest and reckless degradation, that we set our 


16 The best materials for the life of 
Luis de Leon, down to the end of his 
trial and imprisonment in 1576, are 
contained in his accounts of himself 
on that occasion (Documentos, Tom. 
X. pp. 182, 257, etc.), after which a 
good deal may be found in notices of 
him in the curious MS. of Pacheco, 
published, Semanario Pintoresco, 1844, 
p. 874;—those in N. Antonio, Bib. 
Nova, ad verb. ;—in Sedano, Parnaso 


Espafiol, Tom. V.; and in the Preface 
to a collection of his poetry, published 
at Valencia by Mayans y Siscar, 1761 ; 
the last being also found in Mayans y 
Siscar, ‘‘Cartas de Varios Autores” 
(Valencia, 1773, 12mo, Tom. IV. pp. 
398, etc.). Pacheco adds a description 
of his person, and the singular fact, not 
elsewhere noticed, that he amused him- 
self with the art of painting, and suc- 
ceeded in his own portrait. 


Cuap. IX.] 


LUIS DE LEON. 103 


sins to music, and, not content with indulging them in 
secret, shout them joyfully forth to all who will listen.” 

But, whatever may have been his own feelings on 
the suitableness of such an occupation to his profession, 
it 1s certain that, while most of the poems he has left 
us were written in his youth, they were not collected 
by him till the latter part of his life, and then only to 
please a personal friend, who never thought of publish- 
ing them; so that they were not printed at all till 
forty years after his death, when Quevedo gave them 
to the public, in the hope that they might help to 
reform the corrupted taste of the age. But from this 
time they have gone through many editions, though 
still they never appeared properly collated and ar- 
ranged till 1816.” 

They are, however, of great value. They consist of 
versions of all the Eclogues and two of the Georgics 
of Virgil, about thirty Odes of Horace, about forty 
Psalms, and a few passages from the Greek and Italian 
poets; all executed with freedom and spirit, and all in 
a genuinely Castilian style. His translations, however, 
seem to have been only in the nature of exercises 
and amusements. But, though he thus acquired 
great * facility and exactness in his versifica- 
tion, he wrote little. His original poems fill no 
more than about a hundred pages; but there is hardly 
a line of them which has not its value; and the whole, 
when taken together, are to be placed at the head of 


vitayl 


17 The poems of Luis de Leon fill the 
last volume of his Works; but there 
are several among them that are proba- 
bly spurious. Per contra, a few more 
translations by his hand, and especial- 
ly an ode to a religious life, —A la 
vida religiosa, — may be found in Vol. 
XXXVII. of the Biblioteca de Autores 
Espafoles, 1855, which consists of all 
his poetical works, and a selection of 


his works in prose, together with the 
most important part of the documents 
concerning his trial by the Inquisition. 
The volume of his poetry published by 
Quevedo in 1631 at Madrid, it may be 
worth notice, was reprinted the same 
year at Milan by order of the Duke of 
Feria, Grand Chancellor there, in a 
neat duodecimo. 


104 


LUIS DE LEON. [Periop IT. 


Spanish lyric poetry. They are chiefly religious, and 
the source of their inspiration is not to be mistaken. 
Luis de Leon had a Hebrew soul, and kindles his en- 
thusiasm almost always from the Jewish Scriptures. 
Still he preserved his nationality unimpaired. Nearly 
all the best of his poetical compositions are odes 
written in the old Castilian measures, with a classical 
purity and rigorous finish before unknown in Spanish 
poetry, and hardly attained since.* 

This is eminently the case, for instance, with what 
the Spaniards have esteemed the best of his poetical 
works; his ode, called “The Prophecy of the Tagus,” 
in which the river-god predicts to Roderic the Moorish 
conquest of his country, as the result of that monarch’s 
violence to Cava, the daughter of one of his principal 
nobles. It is an imitation of the Ode of Horace in 
which Nereus rises from the waves and predicts the 
overthrow of Troy to Paris, who, under circumstances . 
not entirely dissimilar, is transporting the stolen wife 
of Menelaus to the scene of the fated conflict between 
the two nations. But the Ode of Luis de Leon is writ- 
ten in the old Spanish gwintillas, his favorite measure, 

and is as natural, fresh, and flowing as-one of the 
*88 national ballads.” * Foreigners, however, less 


18 In noticing the Hebrew tempera- 
ment of Luis de Leon, I am reminded 
of one of his contemporaries, who pos- 
sessed in some respects a kindred spirit, 
and whose fate was even more strange 
and unhappy. I refer to Juan Pinto 
Delgado, a Portuguese Jew, who lived 
long in Spain, embraced the Christian 
religion, was reconverted to the faith 
of his fathers, fled from the terrors of 
the Inquisition to France, and died 
there about the year 1590. In 1627, 
a volume of his works, containing nar- 
rative poems on Queen Esther and on 
Ruth, free versions from the Lamenta- 
tions of Jeremiah in the old national 
quintilias, and sonnets and other short 


pieces, generally in the Italian manner, | 
was published at Rouen in France, and ° 
dedicated to Cardinal Richelieu, then 
the all-powerful minister of Louis XITTI. 
They are full of the bitter and sorrow- 
ful feelings of his exile, and parts of 
them are written, not only with tender- 
ness, but in a sweet and pure versifica- 
tion. The Hebrew spirit of the author, 
whose proper name is Moseh Delgado, 
breaks through constantly, as might be 
expected. Barbosa, Biblioteca, Tom. 
II. p. 722. Amador de los Rios, Ju- 
dios de Espafia, Madrid, 1848, 8vo, p. 
500. 

19 Tt is the eleventh of Luis de Leon’s 
Odes, and may well bear a comparison 


Cap, IX.] LUIS DE LEON. 105 
interested in what is so peculiarly Spanish, and so 
full of allusions to Spanish history, may sometimes 
prefer the serener ode “On a Life of Retirement,” that 
“On Immortality,” or perhaps the still more beautiful 
one “On the Starry Heavens”; all written with the 
same purity and elevation of spirit, and all in the same 
national measure and manner. | 

A truer specimen of his prevalent lyrical tone, and, 
indeed, of his tone in much else of what he wrote, 
is perhaps to be found in his “Hymn on the Ascen- 
sion.” It is both very original and very natural in its 
principal ‘idea, being supposed to express the disap- 
pointed feelings of the disciples as they see theit 
Master passing out of their sight into the opening 
heavens above them. 

And dost thou, holy Shepherd, leave 
Thine unprotected flock alone, 


Here, in this darksome vale, to grieve, 
While thou ascend’st thy glorious throne ? 


O, where can they their hopes now turn, 
Who never lived but on thy love ? 

Where rest the hearts for thee that burn, 
When thou art lost in light above ? 


How shall those eyes now find repose 
That turn, in vain, thy smile to see ? 

What can they hear save mortal woes, 
Who lose thy voice’s melody ? 


And who shall lay his tranquil hand 
Upon the troubled ocean’s might ? 


with that of Horace (Lib. I. Carm. 15) 
which suggested it. This same ode of 
Horace that-Luis de Leon imitated with 
such admirable success was also imitated 
in the same way and on the same sub- 
ject subsequently by Francisco de Me- 
drano, but he did it before the ode of 
Luis de Leon had been published. The 
ode of Medrano, — beginning, ‘‘ Rendi- 
do el postrer Godo,” — like all his trans- 
lations and imitations of Horace, is well 
worth reading, although not equal in 


richness and power to that of Luis de 
Leon. Horace and Virgil were evi- 
dently the favorite Latin poets of the 
latter. When he was immured in the 
secret cells of the Inquisition, and could 
obtain books only by special written 
petition to the tribunal, he asked for a 
single copy of each of them to be brought 
to him from his own cell, adding, with 
characteristic simplicity, ‘‘There are 
plenty of them,” — hay hartos. Docu- 
mentos, Tom. X. p. 510. 


106 


LUIS DE LEON. 


{Pertop II. 


Who hush the winds by his command ? 
Who guide us through this starless night ? 


For Tuov art gone !— that cloud so bright, 
That bears thee from our love away, 


Springs upward through the dazzling light, 


And leaves us here to weep and pray !?° 


* 89 


* In order, however, to comprehend aright the 


genius and spirit of Luis de Leon, we must study, 
not only his lyrical poetry, but much of his prose ; for, 
while his religious odes and hymns, beautiful in their 
severe exactness of style, rank him before Klopstock 
and Filicaja, his prose, more rich and no less idiomatic, 
places him at once among the greatest masters of 
eloquence in his native Castilian.” 


20 It is in quintillas in the original ; 
but that stanza, I think, can never, in 
English, be made flowing and easy as it 
is in Spanish. I have, therefore, used 
in this translation a freedom greater 
than I have generally permitted to my- 
self, in order to approach, if possible, 
the bold outline of the original thought. 
It begins thus :— 

Y dexas, pastor santo, 

Tu grey en este valle hondo oscuro 

Con soledad y Hanto, 

Y tu rompiendo el puro 

Ayre, te vas al inmortal seguro! 
Los antes bien hadados, 

Y los agora tristes y afligidos, 

A tus pechos criados, 

De ti desposeidos, 

A do convertiran ya sus sentidos ? 


Obras de Luis de Leon, Madrid, 1816, Tom. 
9 


.p. 42. 
A translation of Luis de Leon’s poems 


by C. B. Schliiter and W. Storck, Miin- 
ster, 1853, is worth reading by those 
who are familiar with the German. 
The version of this ode is at p. 130, 
and is in the measure of the original. 
Another similar version of it may be 
found in Diepenbrock’s Geistlicher Blu- 
menstraus, 1852, p. 157. 

21 In 1837, D. José de Castro y Oroz- 
co produced on the stage at Madrid 
a drama, entitled ‘‘ Fray Luis de Leon,” 
in which the hero, whose name it bears, 
is represented as renouncing the world 
and entering a cloister, in consequence 
of a disappointment in love. Diego de 
Mendoza is also one of the principal 
personages in the same drama, which is 
written in a pleasing style, and has 
some poetical merit, notwithstanding 
its unhappy subject and plot. 


“CHAPTER x4 


mou 


CERVANTES. — HIS FAMILY.— EDUCATION. — FIRST VERSES. — LIFE IN ITALY. 


—— A: 


SOLDIER IN THE BATTLE OF LEPANTO.—A CAPTIVE IN ALGIERS. — 


RETURNS HOME. — SERVICE IN PORTUGAL. — LIFE IN MADRID. —HIS GALA- 
TEA, AND ITS CHARACTER. —HIS MARRIAGE.— WRITES FOR THE STAGE. — 
HIS LIFE IN ALGIERS.— HIS NUMANCIA. — POETICAL TENDENCIES OF HIS 


DRAMA. 


. Tuer family of Cervantes was originally Galician, 
and, at the time of his birth, not only numbered five 
hundred years of nobility and public service, but was 
spread throughout Spain, and had been extended to 


Mexico and other parts of America.’ 


1 Many lives of Cervantes have been 
written, of which four need to be men- 
tioned. 1. That of Gregorio Mayans y 
Siscar, first prefixed to the edition of 
Don Quixote in the original published 
in London in 1738 (4 tom. 4to) under 
the auspices of Lord Carteret, and af- 
terwards to several other editions; a 
work of learning, and the first proper 
attempt to collect materials for a life 
of Cervantes, but ill arranged and ill 
written, and of little value now, except 
for some of its incidental discussions. 
2. The Life of Cervantes, with the 
Analysis of his Don Quixote, by Vi- 
cente de los Rios, prefixed to the sump- 
tuous edition of Don Quixote by the 
Spanish Academy, (Madrid, 1780, 4tom. 
fol.,} and often printed since ;— better 
written than the preceding, and con- 
taining some new facts, but with criti- 
cisms full of pedantry and of extrava- 
gant eulogy. 3. Noticias para la Vida 
de Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, by 
J. Ant. Pellicer, first printed in his 
“*Ensayo de una Biblioteca de Traduc- 
tores,” 1778, but much enlarged after- 
wards, and prefixed to his edition of 
Don Quixote (Madrid, 1797-1798, 5 
tom. 8vo); poorly digested, and con- 


The Castilian 


taining a great deal of extraneous, 
though sometimes curious matter ; but 
more complete than any life that had 
preceded it. 4. Vida de Miguel de 
Cervantes, etc., por D. Martin Fernan- 
dez de Navarrete, published by the 
Spanish Academy (Madrid, 1819, 8vo) ; 
—the best of all, and indeed one of 
the most judicious and best arranged 
biographical works that have been pub- 
lished in any country. Navarrete has 
used in it, with great effect, many new 
documents ; and especially the large 
collection of papers found in the ar- 
chives of the Indies at Seville, in 1808, 
which comprehend the voluminous Jn- 
formacion sent by Cervantes himself, 
in 1590, to Philip II., when asking for 
an office in one of the American colo- 
nies ;—-a mass of well-authenticated 
certificates and depositions, setting forth 
the trials and sufferings of the author of 
Don Quixote, from the time he entered 
the service of his country, in 1571; 
through his captivity in Algiers ; and, 
in fact, till he reached the Azores in 
1582. This thorough and careful life 
is skilfully abridged by L. Viardot, in 
his French translation of Don Quixote, 
(Paris, 1836, 2 tom. 8vo,) and forms 


108 MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA. ([Periop II. 


branch, which, in the fifteenth century, became 
*91 connected *by marriage with the Saavedras, 
seems, early in the sixteenth, to have fallen off 
in its fortunes; and we know that the parents of 
Miguel, who has given to the race a splendor which 
has saved its old nobility from oblivion, were poor 
inhabitants of Alcala de Henares, a small but flourish- 
ing city, about twenty miles from Madrid. There he 
was born, the youngest of four children, on one of the 
early days of October, 15472 
No doubt, he received his early education in the 
place of his nativity, then in the flush of its prosperity 
and fame from the success of the University founded 
there by Cardinal Ximenes, about fifty years before. 
At any rate, like many other generous spirits, he has 
taken an obvious delight in recalling the days of his 
childhood in different parts of his works; as in his Don 
Quixote, where he alludes to the burial and enchant- 
ments of the famous Moor Muzaraque on the great 
hill of Zulema,* just as he had probably heard them in 
some nursery story; and in his prose pastoral, “Ga- 
latea,’ where he arranges the scene of some of its 
most graceful adventures “on the banks,” as he fondly 
calls it, “of the famous Henares.”* But concerning 


the substance of the ‘‘ Life and Writings 
of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra,” by 
Thomas Roscoe, London, 1839, 18mo. 

In the notice which follows in the 
text, I have relied for my facts on the 
work of Navarrete, whenever no other 
authority is referred to; but in the lit- 
erary criticisms Navarrete can hardly 
afford aid, for he hardly indulges him- 
self in them at all. 

2 The date of the baptism of Cervan- 
tes is October 9, 1547; and as it is the 
practice in the Catholic Church to per- 
form this rite soon after birth, we may 
assume, with sufficient probability, that 
Cervantes was born on that very day, or 
the day preceding. But Julius, in a 


note to this passage in his translation 
of this history, suggests very ingenious- 
ly that Cervantes may have been born 
on St. Michael’s day, September 29, as 
it was common in Spain to name chil- 
dren after the Saint on whose festival 
they were born, and as the feast of St. 
Michael was but recently passed when 
he was baptized. 

8 Don Quixote, Parte I. c. 29. F 

* «*En las riberas del famoso He- 
nares.” (Galatea, Madrid, 1784, 8vo, 
Tom. I. p. 66.) Elsewhere he speaks 
of ‘‘nuestro Henares” ; the ‘‘famoso 
Compluto” (p. 121); and ‘‘ nuestro 
fresco Henares,” p. 108. 


Cuap. X.] CERVANTES AT SCHOOL. 109 


his youth we know only what he incidentally tells us 
himself; — that he took great pleasure in attending 
the theatrical representations of Lope de Rueda;?° that 
he wrote verses when very young;° and that he 
always read everything * within his reach, even, * 92 
as it should seem, the torn scraps of paper he 
picked up in the public streets.’ 

It has been conjectured that he pursued his studies 
in part at Madrid, and there is some probability, not- 
withstanding the poverty of his family, that he passed 
two years at the University of Salamanca. But what 
is certain is, that he obtained a public and decisive 
mark of respect, before he was twenty-two years old, 
from one of his teachers; for, in 1569, Lope de Hoyos 
published, by authority, on the death of the unhappy 
Isabelle de Valois, wife of Philip the Second, a volume 
of verse, in which, among other contributions of his 
pupils, are six short poems by Cervantes, whom he 
calls his “dear and well-beloved disciple.” This was, 
no doubt, Cervantes’s first appearance in print as an 
author; and though he gives in it little proof of 
poetical talent, yet the affectionate words of his master 
by which his verses were accompanied, and the circum- 
stance that one of his elegies was written in the name 
of the whole school, show that he enjoyed the respect of 
his teacher and the good-will of his fellow-students.® 


5 Comedias, Madrid, 1749, 4to, Tom. 
I., Prologo. 

6 Galatea, Tom. I. p. x, Prdlogo; 
and in the well-known fourth chapter 
of the ‘‘ Viage al Parnaso,” (Madrid, 
1784, 8vo, p. 53,) he says :— 

Desde mis tiernos anos amé el arte 
Dulce de la agradable poesia, 
Y en ella procuré siempre agradarte. 

7 **Como soy aficionado 4 leer aunque 
sean los papeles rotos de las calles, le- 
vado desta mi natural inclinacion, tomé 
‘ un cartapacio,” etc., he says, (Don Quix- 


ote, Parte I. c. 9, ed. Clemencin, Ma- 
drid, 1833, 4to, Tom. I. p. 198,) when 
giving an account of his taking up the 
waste paper at the silkmercer’s, which, 
as he pretends, turned out to be the 
Life of Don Quixote in Arabic. 

8 The verses of Cervantes on this oc- 
casion may be found partly in Rios, 
‘*Pruebas de la Vida de Cervantes,” 
ed. Academia, Nos. 2—5, and partly in 
Navarrete, Vida, pp. 262, 263. They 
are poor, and the only circumstance that 
makes it worth while to refer to them is, 


110 CERVANTES IN ITALY. [Perrop II. 


The next year, 1570, we find him, without any no- 
tice of the cause, removed from all his early connec- 
tions, and serving at Rome as chamberlain in the 
household of Monsignor Aquaviva, soon afterwards 
a cardinal; the same person who had been sent, in 

1568, on a special mission from the Pope to 
*93 Philip the Second, *and who, as he seems to 

have had a regard for literature and for men of 
letters, may, on his return to Italy, have taken Cer- 
vantes with him from interest in his talents. The 
term of service of the young man must, however, have 
been short. Perhaps he was too much of a Spaniard, 
and had too proud a spirit, to remain long in a position 
at best very equivocal, and that, too, at a period when 
the world was full of solicitations to adventure and 
military glory. 

But, whatever may have been his none he soon 
left Rome, and its court. In 1571, the Pope, Philip 
the Second, and the state of Venice concluded what 
was called a “Holy League” against the Turks, and 
set on foot a joint armament, commanded by the chiv- 
alrous Don John of Austria, a natural son of Charles 
the Fifth. The temptations of such a romantic, as 
well as imposing, expedition against the ancient op- 
pressor of whatever was Spanish, and the formidable 
enemy of all Christendom, were more than Cervantes, 
at the age of twenty-three, could resist; and the next 
thing we hear of him 1s, that he had volunteered in it 


that Hoyos, who was a professor of ele- 
gant literature, calls Cervantes repeated- 
ly ‘caro discipulo,’ "and ‘‘amado dis- 
etpulo” ; and says that the Elegy is 
written ‘‘en nombre de todo el estudio.” 

These, with other miscellaneous poems 
of Cervantes, are collected for the first 
time in the first volume of the ‘ Bibli- 
oteca de Autores Espafioles,” by Aribau 
(Madrid, 1846, 8vo, pp. 612-620) ; and 


prove the pleasant relations in which 
Cervantes stood with some of the prin- 
cipal poets of his day, such as Padilla, 
Maldonado, Barros, Yague de Salas, 
Hernando de Herrera, ete. Of Hoyos 
and his volume of verses curious notices 
may be found in the ‘‘ Disertacion His- 
torico Geografico, ec., de Madrid, por 
D. Juan Ant. Pellicer,” Madrid, 1808, 
4to, pp. 108, sqq. 


Cuap. X.] CERVANTES AT LEPANTO. 111 


as a common soldier. For, as he says in a work writ- 
ten just before his death, he had always observed 
“that none make better soldiers than those who are 
transplanted from the region of letters to the fields of 
war, and that never scholar became soldier that was 
not a good and brave one.”® Animated with this 
spirit, he entered the service of his country among 
the troops with which Spain then filled a large part 
of Italy, and continued in it till he was honorably dis- 
charged in 1575. 

During these four or five years he learned many of 
the hardest lessons of life. He was present in the 
sea-fight of Lepanto, October 7, 1571, and, though suf 
fering at the time under a fever, insisted on bearing 
his part in that great battle, which first decisively 
arrested the intrusion of the Turks into the 
*West of Europe. The galley in which he *94 
served was in the thickest of the contest, and 
that he did his duty to his country and to Christen- 
dom he carried proud and painful proof to his grave ; 
for, besides two other wounds, he received one which 
deprived him of the use of his left hand and arm dur- 
ing the rest of his life. With the other sufferers in 
the fight, he was taken to the hospital at Messina, 


where he remained till April, 1572; and then, under. 


Marco Antonio Colonna, went on the expedition to the 
Levant, to which he alludes with so much satisfaction 
in his dedication of the “ Galatea,’ and which he has 
so well described in the story of the Captive in Don 
Quixote. 

The next year, 1573, he was in the affair of the Go- 

® “No hay mejores soldados, que los do, que no lo fuese por estremo,” ete. 
que se trasplantan de la tierra de los Persiles y Sigismunda, Lib. III. ec. 


estudios en los campos de la guerra; 10, Madrid, 1802, 8vo, Tom. II. p. 
ninguno salié de estudiante para solda- 128. 


112 [Prrrop II. 


CERVANTES A SLAVE IN ALGIERS. 


leta at Tunis, under Don John of Austria, and after- 
wards, with the regiment to which he was attached,” 
returned to Sicily and Italy, many parts of which, in 
different journeys or expeditions, he seems to have 
visited, remaining at one time in Naples above a 
year" This period of his life, however, though 
marked with much suffering, seems never to have 
been regarded by him with regret. On the contrary, 
above forty years afterward, with a generous pride in 
what he had undergone, he declared that, if the alter- 
native were again offered him, he should account his 
wounds a cheap exchange for the glory of having been 
present in that great enterprise.” 

* When he was discharged, in 1575, he took 
with him letters from the Duke of Sesa and Don 
John, commending him earnestly to the king, and em- 
barked for Spain. But on the twenty-sixth of Septem- 
ber he was captured” and carried into Algiers, where 
he passed five years yet more disastrous and more full 
of adventure than the five preceding. He served suc- 
cessively three cruel masters, —a Greek and a Vene- 
tian, both renegadoes, and the Dey, or King, himself ; 


* 95 


10 The regiment in which he served 
was one of the most famous in the ar- 
mies of Philip II. It was the ‘‘ Tercio 
, de Flandes,” and at the head of it was 
Lope de Figueroa, who acts a distin- 
guished part in two of the plays of Cal- 
deron, — ‘‘ Amar despues de la Muerte,” 
and ‘‘El Alcalde de Zalamea.” Cer- 
vantes probably joined this favorite 
regiment again, when, as we shall see, 
he engaged in the expedition to Portu- 
gal in 1581, whither we know not only 
that he went that year, but that the 
Flanders regiment went also. Of the 
affair of the Goleta at Tunis a spirited 
account is given in a little tract in the 
Biblioteca de Autores Espafioles (Tom. 
XXI. 1852, pp. 451-458), by Gonzalo 
de Illescas ; — the same person who pub- 
lished, in 1574, the beginning of a very 
dull Pontifical History, which was sub- 


sequently continued in the same spirit 
by Luis de Bavia and others. 

11 All his works contain allusions to 
the experiences of his life, and especially 
to his travels. When he sees Naples in 
his imaginary Viage del Parnaso (ec. 8, 
p- 126), he exclaims,— 

Esta ciudad es Napoles la ilustre, 
Que yo pisé sus ruas mas de un ano. 

12 <¢Si ahora me propusieran y facili- 
taran un imposible,” says Cervantes, in 
reply to the coarse personalities of Avel- 
laneda, ‘‘ quisiera antes haber me hal- 
lado en aquella faccion prodigiosa, que 
sano ahora de mis heridas, sin haberme 
hallado en ella.” Prélogo 4 Don Quix- 
ote, Parte Segunda, 1615. 

13 His Algerine captor, Arnaute, fig- 
ures in the ballads of the time. See 
Duran, Romancero General, Tom. I. 
pp. xiv and 147. 


Cuap. X.] CERVANTES A SLAVE IN ALGIERS. 1G 


the first two tormenting him with that peculiar ha- 
tred against Christians which naturally belonged to 
persons who, from unworthy motives, had joined them- 
selves to the enemies of all Christendom; and the 
last, the Dey, claiming him for his slave, and treat- 
ing him with great severity, because he had fled 
from his master and become formidable by a series 
of efforts to obtain liberty for himself and his fellow- 
captives. 

Indeed, it is plain that the spirit of Cervantes, so far 
from having been broken by his cruel captivity, had 
been only raised and strengthened by it. On one oc- 
casion he attempted to escape by land to Oran, a 
Spanish settlement on the coast, but was deserted by 
his guide and compelled to return. On another, he 
secreted thirteen fellow-sufferers in a cave on the sea- 
shore, where, at the constant risk of his own life, he 
provided during many weeks for their daily wants, 
while waiting for rescue by sea; but at last, after he 
had joined them, was basely betrayed, and then nobly 
took the whole punishment of the conspiracy on him- 
self. Once he sent for help to break forth by violence, 
and his letter was intercepted; and once he had ma- 
tured a scheme for being rescued, with sixty of his 
countrymen,—a scheme of which, when it was de- 
feated by treachery, he again announced himself as 
the only author and the willing victim. And finally, 
he had a grand project for the insurrection of all the 
Christian slaves in Algiers, which was, perhaps, not 
unlikely to succeed, as their number was full twen- 
ty-five thousand, and which was certainly so 
*alarming to the Dey, that he declared that, * 96 
“If he could but keep that lame Spaniard well 
guarded, he should consider his capital, his slaves, and 


VOL. II. 8 


114 A SLAVE IN ALGIERS. 


CERVANTES [Preriop II. 


his galleys safe.’"* On each of these occasions, se- 


vere, but not degrading,” punishments were inflicted 
upon him. Four times he expected instant death in 
the awful form of impalement or of fire ; and the last 
time a rope was absolutely put about his neck, in the 
vain hope of extorting from a spirit so lofty the names 
of his accomplices. 

At last, the moment of release came. His elder 
brother, who was captured with him, had been ran- 
somed three years before; and now his widowed 
mother was obliged to sacrifice, for her younger son’s 
freedom, all the pittance that remained to her in the 
world, including the dowry of her daughters. But 
even this was not enough; and the remainder of the 
poor five hundred crowns that were demanded as the 
price of his hberty was made up partly by small bor- 


rowings, and partly by the contributions of re- 


In 


14 One of the most trustworthy and 
curious sources for this part of the ife 
of Cervantes is ‘‘ La Historia y Topo- 
grafia de Argel,” por D. Diego de Hae- 
do, (Valladolid, 1612, folio,) in which 
Cervantes is often mentioned, but which 
seems to have been overlooked in all in- 
quiries relating to him, till Sarmiento 
stumbled upon it, in 1752. It is in 
this work that occur the words cited in 
the text, and which prove how formida- 
ble Cervantes had become to the Dey, 
—‘‘Decia Asan Baja, Rey de Argel, 
que como el tuviese guardado al estro- 
peado Espafiol tenia seguros sus cris- 
tianos, sus baxeles y aun toda la ciu- 
dad.” (f. 185.) And just before this, 
referring to the bold project of Cervan- 
tes to take the city by an insurrection 
of the slaves, Haedo says, ‘‘Y si a su 
animo, industria, y trazas, correspon- 
diera la ventura, hoi fuera el dia, que 
Argel fuera de cristianos; porque no 
aspiraban 4 menos sus intentos.” All 
this, it should be recollected, was 
published four years before Cervantes’s 
death. The whole book, including not 
only the history, but the dialogues at 


* 97 ligious charity.” 


this way he * was ransomed 


the end on the sufferings and martyr- 
dom of the Christians in Algiers, is 
very curious, and often throws a strong 
light on passages of Spanish literature 
in the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies, which so often refer to the Moors 
and their Christian slaves on the coasts 
of Barbary. 

16 With true Spanish pride, Cervan- 
tes, when alluding to himself in the 
story of the Captive, (Don Quixote, 
Parte I. c. 40,) says of the Dey, ‘‘Solo 
libr6 bien con él un soldado Espa- 
fiol llamado tal de Saavedra, al qual 
con haber hecho cosas que quedaran 
en la memoria de aquellas gentes por 
muchos afios, y todos por alcanzar liber- 
tad, jamas le did palo, ni se lo mandd 
dar, ni le dixo mala palabra, y por la 
menor cosa de muchas que hizo, temia- 
mos todos que habia de ser empalado, 
y ast lo temié él mas de una vez.” 

16 A beautiful tribute is paid by Cer- 
vantes, in his tale of the ‘‘ Espafiola 
Inglesa,”’ (Novelas, Madrid, 1788, 8vo, 
Tom. I. pp. 358, 359,) to the zeal and 
disinterestedness of the poor priests and 
monks, who went, sometimes at the 


Cuap. X.] CERVANTES RETURNS HOME. 115 


on the nineteenth of September, 1580, just at the 
moment when he had embarked with his master, 
the Dey, for Constantinople, whence his rescue would 
have been all but hopeless. A short time afterward 
he left Algiers, where we have abundant proof that, 
by his disinterestedness, his courage, and his fidelity, 
he had, to an extraordinary degree, gained the affec- 
tion and respect of the multitude of Christian captives 
with which that city of anathemas was then crowded.” 

But, though he was thus restored to his home and 
his country, and though his first feelings may have 
been as fresh and happy as those he has so eloquently 
expressed more than once when speaking of the joys 
of freedom,’ still it should be remembered that he re- 
turned after an absence of ten years, beginning ata 
period of life when he could hardly have taken root 
in society, or made for himself, amidst its struggling 
interests, a place which would not be filled almost as 
soon as he left it. His father was dead. His family, 


risk of their lives, to Algiers to redeem 
the Christians, and one of whom re- 
mained there, giving his person in 
pledge for four thousand ducats which 
he had borrowed to send home captives. 
Of Father Juan Gil, who effected the 
redemption of Cervantes himself from 
slavery, Cervantes speaks expressly, in 
his ‘‘ Trato de Argel,” as 
Un frayle Trinitario, Christianisimo, 
Amigo de hacer bien y conocido. 
Porque ha estado otra vez en esta tierra 
Rescatando Christianos; y di) exemplo 
De una gran Christiandad y gran prudencia ; — 
Su nombre es Fray Juan Gil. 
Jornada V. 

A friar of the blessed Trinity, 
A truly Christian man, known as the friend 
Of all good charities, who once before 
Came to Algiers to ransom Christian slaves, 
And gave example in himself, and proof 
Of a most wise and Christian faithfulness. 
His name is Friar Juan Gil. 


Haedo gives a similar account of Friar 
Juan Gil in his ‘‘ Topografia de Argel” 
(1612, ff. 144, sqq.). Indeed, not a few 
of the ‘‘ padres de la limosna,” as they 
were called, appear to great advantage 
in this interesting work, and, no doubt, 


deserved all the reverence they re- 
ceived. 

17 Cervantes was evidently a person 
of great kindliness and generosity of 
disposition ; but he never overcame a 
strong feeling of hatred against the 
Moors, inherited from his ancestors and 
exasperated by his own captivity. This 
feeling appears in both his plays, writ- 
ten at distant periods, on the subject 
of his life in Algiers ; in the fifty-fourth 
chapter of the second part of Don Quix- 
ote ; in the Persiles y Sigismunda, Lib. 
III. cap. 10; and elsewhere. But ex- 
cept this, and an occasional touch of 
satire against duennas, —- in which Que- 
vedo and Luis Velez de Guevara are as 
severe as he is, —and a little bitterness 
about private chaplains that exercised 
a cunning influence in the houses of the 
great, I know nothing, in all his works, 
to impeach his universal good-nature. 
See Don Quixote, ed. Clemencin, Vol. 
ve P: 260, note, and p. 138, note. 

18 For a beautiful passage on Liberty, 
see Don Quixote, Parte II., opening of 
chapter 58. 





116 THE GALATEA. [Periop II. 


poor before, had been reduced to a still more bitter 
poverty by his own ransom and that of his brother. 

He was unfriended and unknown, and must have suf- 
fered naturally and deeply from a sort of grief and 

disappointment which he had felt neither as a 
*98 soldier nor *asa slave. It is not remarkable, 

therefore, that he should have entered anew into 
the service of his country, —joining his brother, prob- 
ably in the same regiment to which he had formerly 
belonged, and which was now sent to maintain the 
Spanish authority in the newly acquired kingdom of 
Portugal. How long he remained there is not certain. 
But he was at Lisbon, and went, under the Marquis of 
Santa Cruz, in the expedition of 1581, as well as in 
the more important one of the year following, to re- 
duce the Azores, which still held out against the arms 
of Philip the Second. From this period, therefore, we 
are to date the full knowledge he frequently shows of 
Portuguese literature, and that strong love for Portugal 
which, in the third book of “ Persiles and Sigismunda,” 
as well as in other parts of his works, he exhibits with 
a kindliness and generosity remarkable in a Spaniard 
of any age, and particularly in one of the age of 
Philip the Second.” 

It is not unlikely that this circumstance had some 
influence on the first direction of his more serious ef- 
forts as an author, which, soon after his return to Spain, 
ended in the pastoral romance of “Galatea.” For 
prose pastorals have been a favorite form of fiction in 
Portugal from the days of the “Menina e Moga” ” 


19 ‘* Well doth the Spanish hind the difference have found at any time for two hundred 
i ae : years before 
’Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the 2 x fj ans 
1aieh? Bake ° The ‘‘Menina e Moca” is the grace- 
an opinion which Childe Harold found ful little fragment of a prose pastoral, by 
in Spain when he was there, and could Bernardino Ribeyro, which dates from 


Cuap. X.] THE GALATEA. bly; 


down to our own times; and had already been intro- 
duced into Spanish literature by George of Monte- 
mayor, a Portuguese poet of reputation, whose “ Diana 
Enamorada” and the continuation of it by Gil Polo 
were, as we know, favorite books with Cervantes. 

But, whatever may have been the cause, Cervantes 
now wrote all he ever published of his Galatea, which 
was licensed on the first of February, 1584, and 
printed in the * December following. He him- 
self calls it “An Kclogue,” and dedicates it, as 
“the first fruits of his poor genius,’* to the son of 
that Colonna under whose standard he had served, 
twelve years before, in the Levant. It is, in fact, a 
prose pastoral, after the manner of Gil Polo’s; and, as 
he intimates in the Preface, “its shepherds and shep- 
herdesses are many of them such only in their dress.” ” 
Indeed, it has always been understood that Galatea, 
the heroine, is the lady to whom he was soon after- 
wards married; that he himself is Elicio, the hero ; 
and that several of his literary friends, especially Luis 
Barahona de Soto, whom he seems always to have 
overrated as a poet, Francisco de Figueroa, Pedro 
Lainez, and some others, are disguised under the 
names of Lauso, Tirsi, Damon, and similar pastoral 
appellations. At any rate, these personages of his 
fable talk with so much grace and learning, that he 
finds it necessary to apologize for their too elegant 
discourse.” 


“09 


about 1500, and has always been ad- 
mired, as indeed it deserves to be. It 
gets its name from the two words with 
which it begins, ‘‘Small and young”; 
a quaint circumstance, showing its ex- 
treme popularity with those classes that 
were little in the habit of referring to 
books by their formal titles. 

21 «*Hstas primicias de mi corto in- 
genio.” Dedicatoria. Seven editions 


of the Galatea were published as early 
as 1618. 

22 «* Muchos de los disfrazados pas- 
tores della lo eran solo en el habito.” 

23 “* Cuyas razones y argumentos mas 
parecen de ingenios entre libros y las 
aulas criados que no de aquellos que 
entre pagizas cabafhas son crecidos.” 
(Libro [V. Tomo II. p. 90.) This was 
intended, no doubt, at the same time, 


118 


THE GALATEA. [Perrop II. 
Like other works of the same sort, the Galatea is 
founded on an affectation which can never be success- 
ful; and which, in this particular instance, from the 
unwise accumulation and involution of the stories in 
its fable, from the conceited metaphysics with which it 
is disfigured, and from the poor poetry profusely scat- 
tered through it, is more than usually unfortunate. 
Perhaps no one of the many pastoral tales produced in 
Spain in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries fails 
so much in the tone it should maintain. Yet there 
are traces both of Cervantes’s experience in life, and 
of his talent, in different parts of it. Some of the tales, 
like that of Sileno, in the second and third books, are 
interesting; others, like Timbrio’s capture by the 
Moors, in the fifth book, remind us of his own adven- 
tures and sufferings; while yet one, at least, that of 
Rosaura and Grisaldo, in the fourth book, is quite 
emancipated from pastoral conceits and fancies. 
*100 In all * we have passages marked with his rich 
and flowing style, though never, perhaps, with 
what is most peculiar to his genius. The inartificial 
texture of the whole, and the confusion of Christianity 
and mythology, almost inevitable in such a work, are 
its most obvious defects; though nothing, perhaps, is 
more incongruous than the representation of that 
sturdy old soldier and formal statesman, Diego de 
Mendoza, as a lately deceased shepherd.” 


See 


as a compliment to Figueroa, etc. 
post, Chap. XXXITI. note 8. 

24 The chief actors in the Galatea 
visit the tomb of Mendoza, in the sixth 
book, under the guidance of a wise and 
gentle Christian priest ; and when there, 
Calliope strangely appears to them and 
pronounces a tedious poetical eulogium 
on a vast number of the contemporary 
Spanish poets, most of whom are now 
forgotten. The Galatea was abridged 
by Florian, at the end of the eighteenth 


century, and reproduced, with an ap- 
propriate conclusion, in a prose pasto- 
ral, which, in the days when Gessner 
was so popular, was frequently reprint- 
ed. In this form it is by no means 
without grace. Certainly the attempt 
of Florian is more successful than a 
similar one made by Don Candido 
Maria de Trigueros, who followed and 
used him in Los Enamorados o Galatea, 
ec., Madrid, 1798. 


Cuar. X.] 119 


CERVANTES MARRIED. 


But, when speaking thus slightingly of the Galatea, 
we ought to remember that, though it extends to two 
volumes, it is unfinished, and that passages which now 
seem out of proportion or unintelligible might have 
their meaning, and might be found appropriate, if the 
second part, which Cervantes had perhaps written, and 
which he continued to talk of publishing till a few 
days before his death,” had ever appeared. And 
certainly, as we make up our judgment on its merits, 
we are bound to bear in mind his own touching words, 
when he represents it as found by the barber and 
curate in Don Quixote’s library.% “‘But what book 
is the next one?’ said the curate. ‘The Galatea of 
Miguel de Cervantes,’ replied the barber. ‘This 
Cervantes,’ said the curate, ‘has been a great friend of 
mine these many years; and I know that he is more 
skilled in sorrows than in verse. His book is not 
without happiness in the invention; it proposes some- 
thing, but finishes nothing. So we must wait for the 
second part, which he promises; for perhaps he will 
then obtain the favor that is now denied him; and, in 
the mean time, my good gossip, keep it locked up at 
home.” 

If the story be true that he wrote the Galatea 
to win * the favor of his lady, his success may * 101 
have been the reason why he was less inter- 
ested to finish it; for, almost immediately after the 
appearance of the first part, he was married, Decem- 
ber 12, 1584, to a lady of a good family in Esquivias, 
a village near Madrid.” The pecuniary arrangements 


* In the Dedication to ‘‘Persiles y times it isto praise its wines. The first 


Sigismunda,” 1616, April 19, only four 
days before his death. 

*6 Parte Primera, cap. 6. 

27 He alludes, I think, but twice in 
all his works to Esquivias ; and both 


is in the ‘“‘Cueva de Salamanca” (Come- 
dias, 1749, Tom. II. p. 313), and the 
last is in the Prdlogo to ‘‘ Persiles y 
Sigismunda,” though in the latter he 
speaks also of its ‘‘ilustres linages.” 


120 CERVANTES WRITES FOR THE STAGE. [Penton II. 


consequent on the marriage, which have been pub- 
lished,“ show that both parties were poor; and the 
Galatea intimates that Cervantes had a formidable 
Portuguese rival, who was, at one time, nearly success- 
ful in winning his bride.” But, whether the course of 
his love ran smooth before marriage or not, his wed- 
ded life, for above thirty years, seems to have been 
happy; and his widow, at her death, desired to be 
buried by his side. 

In order to support his family, he probably lived 
much at Madrid, where we know he was familiar with 
several contemporary poets, such as Juan Rufo, Pedro 
de Padilla, and others, whom, with his inherent good- 
nature, he praises constantly in his later works, and 
often unreasonably. From the same motive, too, and 
perhaps partly in consequence of these intimacies, 
he now undertook to gain some portion of his sub- 
sistence by authorship, turning away from the life of 
adventure to which he had earlier been attracted. 

His first efforts in this way were for the stage, which 
naturally presented strong inducements for one who 
was early fond of dramatic representations, and who 
was now in serious want of such immediate profit as 
the theatre sometimes yields. The drama, however, in 
the time of Cervantes, was rude and unformed. He 
tells us, as we have already noticed, that he had wit- 

nessed its beginnings in the time of Lope de 
*102 Rueda and * Naharro,” which must have been 
before he went to Italy, and when, from his 
description of its dresses and apparatus, we plainly see 


#8 See the end of Pellicer’s Life of his father’s will, who died while Cer- 
Cervantes, pretixed to his edition of vantes himself was a slave in Al- 
Don Quixote (Tom. I. p.cev). There  giers. 
seems to have been an earlier connec- 29 At the end of the sixth book. 
tion between the family of Cervantes 8 Prélogo al Lector, prefixed to his 
and that of his bride; for the lady’s eight plays and eight Entremeses, Ma- 
mother had been named executrix of drid, 1615, 4to. 


Cuar. X.] CERVANTES WRITES FOR THE STAGE. Ve 


that the theatre was not so well understood and man- 
aged as it is now by strolling companies and in puppet- 
shows. From this humble condition, which the efforts 
made by Bermudez and Argensola, Virues, La Cueva, 
and their contemporaries, had not much ameliorated, 
Cervantes undertook to raise it; and he succeeded so 
far that, thirty years afterwards, he thought his success 
of sufficient consequence frankly to boast of it.” 

But it is curious to see the methods he deemed 
it expedient to adopt for such a purpose. He reduced, 
he says, the number of acts from five to three; but 
this is a slight matter, and, though he does not seem to 
be aware of the fact, it had been done long before by 
Avendano. He claims to have introduced phantasms 
of the imagination, or allegorical personages, like War, 
Disease, and Famine; but, besides that Juan de la 
Cueva had already done this, it was, at best, nothing 
more in either of them than reviving the forms of the 
old religious shows. And, finally, though this is not 
one of the grounds on which he himself places his 
dramatic merits, he seems to have endeavored in his 
plays, as in his other works, to turn his personal 
travels and sufferings to account, and thus, uncon- 
sciously, became an imitator of some of those who 
were among the earliest inventors of such represen- 
tations in modern Europe. 

But, with a genius like that of Cervantes, even 
changes or attempts as crude as these were not without 
results. He wrote, as he tells us with characteristic 
carelessness, twenty or thirty pieces which were re- 
ceived with applause ;—a number greater than can 
be with certainty attributed to any preceding Spanish 
author, and a success before quite unknown. None of 


81 Adjunta al Parnaso, first printed in 1614; and the Prologo last cited. 


122 THE TRATO DE ARGEL. (Perrop II. 


these pieces were printed at the time, but he has given 

us the names of nine of them, two of which 
*103 were discovered *in 1782, and printed, for 

the first time, in 1784.” The rest, it is to be 
feared, are irrecoverably lost; and among them is “ La 
Confusa,’ which, long after Lope de Vega had given 
its final character to the proper national drama, Cer- 
vantes fondly declared was still one of the very best 
of the class to which it belonged ;” a judgment which 
the present age might perhaps confirm, if the propor- 
tions and finish of the drama he preferred were equal 
to the strength and originality of the two that have 
been rescued. 

The first of these is “El Trato de Argel,’ or, as he 
elsewhere calls it, “Los Tratos de Argel,” which may 
be translated Life, or Manners, in Algiers. It is a 
drama, slight in its plot, and so imperfect in its dia- 
logue, that, in these respects, it is little better than 
some of the old eclogues on which the earlier theatre 
was founded. His purpose, indeed, seems to have been 
simply to set before a Spanish audience such a picture 
of the sufferings of the Christian captives at Algiers 
as his own experience would justify, and such as 
might well awaken sympathy in a country which had 
furnished a deplorable number of the victims. He, | 
therefore, is little careful to construct a regular plot, if, 
after all, he were aware that such a plot was important ; 
but instead of it he gives us a stiff and unnatural love- 
story, which he thought good enough to be used again, 
both in one of his later plays and in one of his tales ;* 
and then trusts the main success of the piece to its 
episodical sketches. 

82 They are in the same volume with 88 Adjuntaal Parnaso, p. 139, ed. 1784. 


the ‘‘ Viage al Parnaso,” Madrid, 1784, 84 In the ‘‘ Baos de Argel,” and the 
8vo. ‘** Amante Liberal.” 


Cua: X:] THE TRATO DE ARGEL. 123 


Of these sketches, several are striking. First, we 
have a scene between Cervantes himself and two of 
his fellow-captives, in which they are jeered at as 
slaves and Christians by the Moors, and in which they 
give an account of the martyrdom in Algiers of a 
Spanish priest, which was subsequently used by Lope 
de Vega in one of his dramas, and which was founded 
in fact. Next, we have the attempt of Pedro Alvarez 
to escape to Oran, which is, no doubt, taken from the 
similar attempt of Cervantes, and has all the 
spirit of a drawing from life. *And, in dif * 104 
ferent places, we have two or three painful 
scenes of the public sale of slaves, and especially of 
little children, which he must often have witnessed, 
and which again Lope de Vega thought worth borrow- 
ing, when he had risen, as Cervantes calls it, to the 
monarchy of the scene.” The whole play is divided 
into five jornadas, or acts, and written in octaves, vedon- 
dillas, terza rima, blank verse, and almost all the other 
measures known to Spanish poetry ; while among the 
persons of the drama are strangely scattered, as prom- 
inent actors, Necessity, Opportunity, a Lion, and a 
Demon. 


35 The ‘‘ Esclavos en Argel” of Lope 
is found in his Comedias, Tom. XXV., 
(Caragoca, 1647, 4to, pp. 231 — 260,) and 
shows that he borrowed much too freely 
from the play of Cervantes, which, it 
should be remembered, had not then 
been printed, so that he must have used 
a manuscript. The scenes of the sale 
of the Christian children, (pp. 249, 250,) 
and the scenes between the same chil- 
dren after one of them had become a 
Mohammedan, (pp. 259, 260,) as they 
stand in Lope, are taken from the cor- 
responding scenes in Cervantes (pp. 
316 — 323, and 364-366, ed. 1784). 
Much of the story, and passages in 
other parts of the play, are also bor- 
rowed. The martyrdom of the Valen- 
cian priest, which is merely described 


by Cervantes, (pp. 298-305,) is made 
a principal dramatic point in the third 
jornada of Lope’s play, where the exe- 
cution occurs, in the most revolting 
form, on the stage (p. 263). The truth 
is, that this execution really occurred 
at Algiers in 1577, while Cervantes was 
there, and that he first used it and then 
Lope copied from him. A full account 
of it may be found in Haedo, (Topo- 
grafia, ff. 179 a to 183 a, ) and is one of the 
most curious illustrations extant of the 
relations subsisting between the Span- 
iards and their hated enemies. The 
borrowings of Lope from the play of 
Cervantes are, however, more plain else- 
where in his ‘‘ Esclavos de Argel” than 
in the case of this shocking martyr- 
dom. 


124 ; THE TRATO DE ARGEL. [Periop II. 


Yet, notwithstanding the unhappy confusion and 
carelessness all this implies, there are passages in the 
Trato de Argel which are highly poetical. Aurelio, 
the hero, — who is a Christian captive affianced to 
another captive named Sylvia, —is loved by Zara, a 
Moorish lady, whose confidante, Fatima, makes a wild 
incantation, in order to obtain means to secure the 
gratification of her mistress’s love ; the result of which 
is that a demon rises and places in her power Neces- 
sity and Opportunity. These two immaterial agencies 
are then sent by her upon the stage, and — invisible 
to Aurelio himself, but seen by the spectators — tempt 
him with evil thoughts to yield to the seductions of the 
fair unbeliever.° When they are gone, he thus ex- 
presses, in soliloquy, his feelings at the idea of hav- 
ing nearly yielded :— 


*105 * Aurelio, whither goest thou? Where, O where, 
Now tend thine erring steps? Who guides thee on 
Is, then, thy fear of God so small that thus, 
To satisfy mad fantasy’s desires, 

Thou rushest headlong? Can light and easy 
Opportunity, with loose solicitation, 

Persuade thee thus, and overcome thy soul, 
Yielding thee up to love a prisoner ? 

Is this the lofty thought and firm resolve 

In which thou once wast rooted, to resist 
Offence and sin, although in torments sharp 
Thy days should end and earthly martyrdom ? 
So soon hast thou offended, to the winds 

Thy true and loving hopes cast forth, 

And yielded up thy soul to low desire ? 

Away with such wild thoughts, of basest birth 
And basest lineage sprung! Such witchery 
‘Of foul, unworthy love shall by a love 


88 Cervantes, no doubt, valued him- Repro re Wi age Gento 
s ‘ “ = eh e su buen Genio y 
self upon these immaterial agencies ; Exteriormente la lid, 


and, after his time, they became com- Que arde interior en su pecho. 
mon on the Spanish stage. Calderon, ie Acie hana ee 
in his ‘Gran Principe de Fez,” (Come- Bs. good and evil gmnlus bod forth, 
dias, Madrid, 1760, 4to, Tom. III. p. The hot encounter hidden in his heart. 
389,) thus explains two, whom he in- 

troduces, in words that may be applied 

to those of Cervantes :— 


i 


Cuap. X.] THE NUMANCIA. 


All pure be broke! A Christian soul is mine, 
And as a Christian’s shall my life be marked ; — 
Nor gifts, nor promises, nor cunning art, 

Shall from the God I serve my spirit turn, 
Although the path I trace lead on to death ! 87 


The conception of this passage, and of the scene 
preceding it, is certainly not dramatic, though it is 
one of those on which, from the introduction of spirit- 
ual agencies, Cervantes valued himself. But neither 
is it without stirring poetry. Like the rest of the 
piece, it is a mixture of personal feelings and fancies, 
struggling with an ignorance of the proper principles 
of the drama, and with the rude elements of the thea- 
tre in its author’s time. He calls the whole a Come- 
dia; but it is neither a comedy nor a tragedy. Like 
the old Mysteries, it is rather an attempt to exhibit, 
in living show, a series of unconnected incidents ; for it 
has no properly constructed plot, and, as he honestly 
confesses afterwards, it comes to no proper conclu- 
sion.” ; 

The other play of Cervantes, that has reached 
us from * this period of his life, is founded on * 106 
the tragical fate of Numantia, which having re- 
sisted the Roman arms fourteen years,” was reduced 
by famine; the Roman forces consisting of eighty 
thousand men, and the Numantian of less than four 
thousand, not one of whom was found alive when the 


87 Aurelio, donde vas? para dé mueves 


El vagaroso paso? Quien te guia? 
Con tan poco temor de Dios te atreves 
A contentar tu loca fantasia? etc. 
Jornada V. 
88 Y aqui da este trato fin, 
Que no lo tiene el de Argel, 


is the jest with which he ends his other 
play on the same subject, printed thirty 
years after the representation of this 
one. Clemencin (Notas 4 D. Quixote, 
III. 253, 254) says Cervantes did not 
print this play because he did not deem 


it worthy of him. But the inference is 
not a fair one, for Cervantes did not 
print his Numancia, and yet he cer- 
tainly thought well of it. D. Quixote, 
II. 48. 

89 Cervantes makes Scipio say of the 
siege, on his arrival, — 

Diez y seis anos son y mas pasados. 

The true length of the contest with Nu- 
mantia was, however, fourteen years ; 
and the length of the last siege four- 
teen months, 


126 THE NUMANCIA. [Pertop II. 


conquerors entered the city.° Cervantes probably 
chose this subject in consequence of the patriotic recol- 
lections it awakened, and still continues to awaken, in 
the minds of his countrymen ; and, for the same rea- 
son, he filled his drama chiefly with the public and pri- 
vate horrors consequent on the self-devotion of the 
Numantians. 

It is divided into four jornadas, and, like the Trato 
de Argel, is written in a great variety of measures ; 
the ancient redondilla being preferred for the more 
active portions. Its dramatis persone are no fewer than 
forty in number; and among them are Spain and the 
River Duero, a Dead Body, War, Sickness, Famine, 
and Fame ; the last personage speaking the Prologue. 
The action opens with Scipio’s arrival. He at once 
reproaches the Roman army, that, in so long a time, 
they had not conquered so small a body of Spaniards, 
—as Cervantes always patriotically calls the Nu- 
mantians,— and then announces that they must now 
be subdued by Famine. Spain enters as a fair ma- 
tron, and aware of what awaits her devoted city, in- 
vokes the Duero in two poetical octaves," which the 

river answers in person, accompanied by three 
*107 *of his tributary streams, but gives no hope 
to Numantia, except that the Goths, the Con- 
stable of Bourbon, and the Duke of Alva, shall one 


49 It is well to read, with the ‘‘ Nu- Que prestes 4 mis asperos lamentos 


= i \ Atento oido 6 que 4 escucharlos vengas, 
mancia” of Cervantes, the account of ¥, aunquaxdesen aheedn alana 


Florus, (Epit. II. 18, ) and especially Suplicote que en nada te detengas : 
that in Mariana, (Lib. III. c. 6-10,) Si ta con tus continos crecimientos 
the latter being the proud Spanish ver- Destos fieros Romanos no te vengas, 
. fi Cerrado veo ya qualquier camino 
sion Of It. ; A la salud del pueblo Numantino. 
41 cee gentil, que, con torcidas vueltas, Jorn. I. Sc. 2. 
umedeces gran parte de mi seno 
Ansi en tus aguas siempre yeas envueltas It should be added that these two 
Arenas de oro qual el Tajo ameno, * octaves occur at the end of a somewhat 
¥ ansi las ninfas fugitivas sueltas, tedious soliloquy of nine or ten others, 


De que esti el verde prado y bosque Ileno : 
Vengai huntilies 4 tas agand lari ae all of which are really octave stanzas, 


Y en prestarte favor no sean avaras, though not printed as such, 


—————— ee 


Cuar. X.] THE NUMANCIA. 127 


day avenge its fate on the Romans. This ends the 
first act. 

The other three divisions are filled with the hor- 
rors of the siege endured by the unhappy Numantians ; 
the anticipations of their defeat; their sacrifices and 
prayers to avert it; the unhallowed incantations by 
which a dead body is raised to predict the future ; 
and the cruel sufferings to old and young, to the 
loved and lovely, and even to the innocence of child- 
hood, through which the stern fate of the city is 
accomplished. The whole ends with the voluntary 
immolation of those who remained alive among the 
starving inhabitants, and the death of a youth who 
holds up the keys of the gates, and then, in presence 
of the Roman general, throws himself headlong from 
one of the towers of the city; its last self-devoted 
victim. 

In such a story there is no plot, and no proper 
development of anything like a dramatic action. But 
the romance of real life has rarely been exhibited on 
the stage in such bloody extremity; and still more 
rarely, when thus exhibited, has there been so much 
of poetical effect produced by individual incidents. In 
a scene of the second act, Marquino, a magician, after 
several vain attempts to compel a spirit to re-enter the 
body it had just left on the battle-field, in order to 
obtain from it a revelation of the coming fate of 
the city, bursts forth indignantly, and says: — 


Rebellious spirit! Back again and fill 
The form which, but a few short hours ago, 
Thyself left tenantless. 


To which the spirit, re-entering the body, replies : — 


Restrain the fury of thy cruel power ! 
Enough, Marquino! O, enough of pain 
I suffer in those regions dark, below, 


128 _ THE NUMANCIA. [Pertop II. 


Without the added torments of thy spell! 
Thou art deluded if thou deem’st indeed 

That aught of earthly pleasure can repay 

Such brief return to this most wretched world, 
Where, when I barely seem to live again, 

*108 * With urgent speed life harshly shrinks away. 
Nay, rather dost thou bring a shuddering pain ; 
Since, on the instant, all-prevailing death 
Triumphant reigns anew, subduing life and soul ; 
Thus yielding twice the victory to my foe, 

Who now, with others of his grisly crew, 
Obedient to thy will, and stung with rage, 
Awaits the moment when shall be fulfilled 
The knowledge thou requirest at my hand ; 
The knowledge of Numantia’s awful fate. 


There is nothing of so much dignity in the incantations 
of Marlowe’s “ Faustus,” which belong to the contempo- 
rary period of the English stage; nor does even Shake- 
speare demand from us a sympathy so strange with the 
mortal head reluctantly rising to answer Macbeth’s 
guilty question, as Cervantes makes us feel for this 
suffering spirit, recalled to life only to endure a second 
time the pangs of dissolution. 

The scenes of private and domestic affliction arising 
from the pressure of famine are sometimes introduced 
with unexpected effect, especially one between a 
mother and her child, and the following between 
Morandro, a lover, and his mistress, Lira, whom he now 
sees wasted by hunger, and mourning over the univer- 
sal desolation. She turns from him to conceal her 
sufferings, and he says, tenderly, — 


Nay, Lira, haste not, haste not thus away ; 
But let me feel an instant’s space the joy 


42 Marquino. Que ya me va faltando presurosa: 
Alma rebelde, vuelve al aposento ara tn bene es ig ieorb 
06 Doeas bores te Ooac eT a ss Triunfara de mi vida y de mi alma; 

El Cuerpo. Mi enemigo tendra doblada palma, 

Cese la furia del rigor violento E) cual, con otros del escuro bando 
Tuyo. Marquino, baste, triste, baste, De los que son sugetos 4 aguardarte, 
La que yo paso en la region escura, Esta con rabia en torno, aqui esperando 
Sin que ta crezcas mas mi desventura. A que acabe, Marquino, de informarte 
Enganaste, si piensas que recibo Del lamentable fin, del mal nefando, 
Contento de volver 4 esta penosa, "Que de Numancia puedo asegurarte. 


Misera y corta vida, que ahora vivo, Jorn. II, Se. 2 


Cuar. X.] THE NUMANCIA. 129 


Which life can give even here, amidst grim death. 
Let but mine eyes an instant’s space behold 
Thy beauty, and, amidst such bitter woes, 
Be gladdened! O my gentle Lira !— thou, 
That dwell’st forever in such harmony 
* Amidst the thoughts that throng my fantasy, * 109 
That suffering grows glorious for thy sake ; — 
What ails thee, love? On what are bent thy thoughts, 
Chief honor of mine own ? 
Lira. I think, how fast 
All happiness is gliding both from thee 
And me; and that, before this cruel war 
Can find a close, my life must find one too. 
Morandro. What say’st thou, love ? 
Lira. That hunger so prevails 
Within me, that it soon must triumph quite, 
And break my life’s thin thread. What wedded love 
Canst thou expect from me in such extremity, — 
Looking for death perchance in one short hour ? 
With famine died my brother yesterday ; 
With famine sank my mother ; andif still 
I struggle on, ’t is but my youth that bears 
Me up against such rigors horrible. 
But sustenance is now so many days 
Withheld, that all my weakened powers 
Contend in vain. 
Morandro. O Lira! dry thy tears, 
And let but mine bemoan thy bitter griefs ! 
For though fierce famine press thee merciless, 
Of famine, while I live, thou shalt not die. 
Fosse deep and wall of strength shall be o’erleaped, 
And death confronted, and yet warded off ! 
The bread the bloody Roman eats to-day 
Shall from his lips be torn and placed in thine ; — 
My arms shall hew a passage for thy life ; — 
For death is naught when I behold thee thus. 
Food thou shalt have, in spite of Roman power, 
If but these hands are such as once they were. 
Lira. Thou speak’st, Morandro, with a loving heart ; — 
But food thus bought with peril to thy life 
Would lose its savor. All that thou couldst snatch 
In such an onset must be small indeed, 
And rather cost thy life than rescue mine. 
Enjoy, then, love, thy fresh and glowing youth! 
Thy life imports the city more than mine ; 
Thou canst defend it from this cruel foe, 
Whilst I, a maiden, weak and faint at heart, 
Am worthless all. So, gentle love, dismiss this thought ; 
VOL. II. 9 


130 THE NUMANCIA. 


J taste no food bought at such deadly price. 
And though a few short, wretched days thou couldst 
Protect this life, still famine, at the last, 


Must end us all. 
en 10 * Morandro. 


In vain thou strivest, love, 


To hinder me the way my will alike 
And destiny invite and draw me on. 
Pray rather, therefore, to the gods above, 
That they return me home, laden with spoils, 
Thy sufferings and mine to mitigate. 

Lira. . Morandro, gentle friend, O, go not forth ! 
For here before me gleams a hostile sword, 


Red with thy blood ! 


O, venture, venture not 


Such fierce extremity, light of my life ! 
For if the sally be with dangers thick, 


More dread is the return.*% 


43 Morandro. 


No vayas tan de corrida, 
Lira, déxame gozar 
Del bien que me puede dar 
En la muerte alegre vida: 
Dexa, que miren mis ojos 
Un rato tu hermosura, 
Pues tanto mi desventura 
Se entretiene en mis enojos. 
O dulce Lira, que suenas 
Contino en mi fantasia 
Con tan suave harmonia 
Que vuelve en gloria mis penas! 
Que tienes? Que estas pensando, 
Gloria de mi pensamiento? 
Lira. 
Pienso como mi contento 
Y el tuyo se va acabando, 
Y no sera su homicida 
El cerco de nuestra tierra, 
Que primero que la guerra 
Se me acabara la vida, 


Morandro. 
Que dices, bien de mi alma? 
Lira. 


Que me tiene tal la hambre, 
Que de mi vital estambre 
Llevara presto la palma. 
Que talamo has de esperar 
De quien esti en tal extremo, 
Que te aseguro que temo 
Antes de una hora espirar? 
Mi hermano ayer espird 

De la hambre fatigado, 

Y mi madre ya ha acabado 
Que la hambre la acabé. 

Y sila hambre y su fuerza 
No ha rendido mi salud, 

Es porque la juventud 
Contra su rigor se esfuerza. 
Pero como ha tantos dias 
Que no le hago defensa, 

No pueden contra su ofensa 
Las débiles fuerzas mias. 


Morandro. 
Enjuga, Lira, los ojos, 
Dexa que los tristes mios 


Se vuelvan corrientes rios 
Nacidos de tus enojos ; 


Y aunque la hambre ofendida 
Te tenga tan sin compas, 

De hambre no moriras 
Mientras yo tuviere vida. 

Yo me ofrezco de saltar 

El foso y el muro fuerte, 

Y entrar por la misma muerte 
Para la tuya escusar, 


-E] pan que el Romano toca, 


Sin que el temor me destruya, 
Lo quitaré de la suya 

Para ponerlo en tu boca. 

Con mi brazo haré carrera 

A tu vida y 4 mi muerte, 
Porque mas me mata el verte, 
Sefiora, de esa manera. 

Yo te traeré de comer 

A pesar de los Romanos, 

Si ya son estas mis manos 

Las mismas que solian ser. 


Lira. 
Hablas como enamorado, 
Morandro, pero no es justo, 
Que ya tome gusto el gusto 
Con tu peligro comprado. 
Poco podra sustentarme 
Qualquier robo que haras, 
Aunque mas cierto hallaras 
E] perderte que ganarme. 
Goza de tu mocedad 
En fresca edad y crecida, 
Que mas importa tu vida 
Que la mia, a la ciudad. 
Tu podras bien defendella, 
De la enemiga asechanza, 
Que no la flaca pujanza 
Desta tan triste doncella. 
Ansi que, mi dulce amor, 
Despide ese pensamiento, 
Que yo no quiero sustento 
Ganado con tu sudor. 
Que aunque puedes alargar 
Mi muerte por algun dia, 
Esta hambre que porfia 
En fin nos ha de acabar. 


Morandro. 


En vano trabajas, Lira, 
De impidirme este camino, 
Do mi voluntad y signo 
Alla me convida y tira, 


[Periop II, 


Car. X.] THE NUMANCIA. 131 


*He persists, and, accompanied by a faithful *111 
friend, penetrates into the Roman camp and 
obtains bread. In the contest he is wounded; but 
still, forcmg his way back to the city, by the mere 
energy of despair, he gives to Lira the food he has 
won, wet with his own blood, and then falls dead at 
her feet. 

A very high authority in dramatic criticism speaks 
of the Numancia as if it were not merely one of the 
more distinguished efforts of the early Spanish thea- 
tre, but one of the most striking exhibitions of mod- 
ern poetry.“ It is not probable that this opinion will 
prevail. Yet the whole piece has the merit of great 
originality, and, in several of its parts, succeeds in 
awakening strong emotions; so that, notwithstanding 
the want of dramatic skill and adaptation, it may still 
be cited as a proof of its author’s high poetical talent, 
and, in the actual condition ofthe Spanish stage when 
he wrote, as a bold and nobl® effort to thise it. 

Wy 


of it himself ; but still couples it with 
well-considered plays of Lope de Vega, 
Gaspafde Avila, and Francisco Tarrega. 
Don Quixote, Parte I. c. 48. 

There is a very curious contract be- 
tween Cervantes and Rodrigo de Osorio 
an ‘‘ Autor de Comedias,” dated at Se- 
ville, 5 September, 1592, in which Cer- 
vantes engages to write six plays, foreach 
of which he is to receive fifty ducats, pro- 
vided it should be ‘‘ una de las mejores 


Ta rogaras entre tanto 

A los Dioses, que me vuelvan 
Con despojos que resuelvan 
Tu miseria y mi quebranto, 


Lira. 


Morandro, mi dulce amigo, 
No vayas, que se me antoja, 
Que de tu sangre veo roxa 
La espada del enemigo. 

No hagas esta jornada, 
Morandro, bien de mi vida, 
Que si es mala la salida, 

Es muy peor la tornada. 


Jorn. III. Se. 1. 


There is, in this scene, a tone of 
gentle, broken-hearted self-devotion on 
the part of Lira, awakening a fierce 
despair in her lover, that seems to me 
very true to nature. The last words of 
Lira, in the passage translated, have, I 
think, much beauty in the original. 

4 A. W. von Schlegel, Vorlesungen 
iiber dramatische Kunst und Literatur, 
Heidelberg, 1811, Tom. II. Abt. ii. p. 
345. Cervantes speaks more modestly 


comedias que se han representado en Es- 
pana”; otherwise nothing. Whether 
these plays were ever written, or wheth- 

‘er, if they were written, they were the 
six mentioned in the ‘‘ Adjunta al Par- 
naso’”’ in 1614, we shall probably never 
know. (Nuevos Documentos, Sevilla, 
1864, pp. 26-29.) The period referred 
to — 1592 —was apparently the one 
when he was much occupied and vexed 
with collecting provisions for the gov- 
ernment in Andalusia, and with other 
poor labors of a similar sort. 


Pal? NORA PTE wt 


CERVANTES NEGLECTED. — AT SEVILLE.—HIS FAILURE.— ASKS EMPLOYMENT 
IN AMERICA.—AT VALLADOLID.— HIS TROUBLES.— PUBLISHES THE FIRST 
PART OF DON QUIXOTE.—HE REMOVES TO MADRID.—HIS LIFE THERE. 
—HIS RELATIONS WITH LOPE DE VEGA.—HIS TALES AND THEIR CHAR- 
ACTER.— HIS JOURNEY TO PARNASSUS, AND DEFENCE OF HIS DRAMAS.— 
PUBLISHES HIS PLAYS AND ENTREMESES.—THEIR CHARACTER. — SECOND 
PART OF DON QUIXOTE.—HIS DEATH. 


THE low condition of the theatre in his time was 
a serious misfortune to Cervantes. It prevented him 
from obtaining, as a dramatic author, a suitable remu- 
neration for his efforts, even though they were, as he 
tells us, successful in winning public favor. If we add 
to this that he was now married, that one of his sis- 
ters was dependent on him, and that he was maimed 
in his person and a neglected man, it will not seem 
remarkable that, after struggling on for three years 
at Esquivias and Madrid, he found himself obliged to 
seek elsewhere the means of subsistence. In 1588, 
therefore, he went to Seville, then the great mart for 
the vast wealth coming in from America, and, as he 
afterwards called it, “a shelter for the poor and a 
refuge for the unfortunate.” ? 
time as one of the agents of Antonio de Guevara, a 
royal commissary for the American fleets, and after- 
wards as a collector of moneys due to the government 


There he acted for some.: 


an 


1 “Volvime 4 Sevilla,” says Bergan- 
za, in the ‘‘Coloquio de los Perros,” 
‘*que es amparo de pobres y refugio de 
desdichados.” Novelas, Madrid, 1783, 
8vo, Tom. II. p. 362. That Cervantes 
was at Seville in the years 1588, 1589, 


1590, 1592, and 1593 is proved beyond 
all peradventure by documents pub- 
lished at Seville in 1864, by Don José 
Maria Asensio y Toledo, referred to in 
note 44 of the last chapter. 


~ — rs “ 


Cuar. XI.] CERVANTES AT SEVILLE. 138 


and to private individuals; an humble condition, cer- 
tainly, and full of cares, but still one that gave 
him the bread he had vainly sought in other pur- 
suits. 

The chief advantage, perhaps, of these employ- 
ments to a genius like that of Cervantes was, 
that they led him to * travel much for ten years *113 
in different parts of Andalusia and Granada, and 
made him familiar with life and manners in these pic- 
turesque parts of his native country. During the lat 
ter portion of the time, indeed, partly owing to the 
failure of a person to whose care he had intrusted 
some of the moneys he had received, and partly, it is 
to be feared, owing to his own negligence, he became 
indebted to the government, and was imprisoned at 
Seville, as a defaulter, for a sum so small that it seems 
to mark a more severe degree of poverty than he had 
yet suffered. After a strong application to the gov- 
ernment, he was released from prison under an order 
of December 1, 1597, when he had been confined, 
apparently, about three months; but the claims of the 
public treasury on him were not adjusted in 1608, nor 
do we know what was the final result of his improvi- 
dence in relation to them, except that he does not 
seem to have been molested on the subject after that 
date. 
~~ During his residence at Seville, which, with some 
interruptions, extended from 1588 to 1598, or perhaps 
somewhat longer, Cervantes made an ineffectual appli- 
cation to the king for an appointment in America; 
setting forth by exact documents — which now consti- 
tute the most valuable materials for his biography — 
a general account of his adventures, services, and 
sufferings, while a soldier in the Levant, and of the 


134 SHORT OCCASIONAL POEMS. [Per1op IV 


miseries of his life while he was a slave in Algiors.” 
This was in 1590. But no other than a formal answer 
seems ever to have been returned to the application ; 
and the whole affair only leaves us to infer the severity 
of that distress which should induce him to 
*114 seek relief in exile to a colony * of which he 
has elsewhere spoken as the great resort of 
rogues.® 
As an author, his residence at Seville has left few 
distinct traces of him. In 1596, he sent some trifling 
verses to Saragossa, which gained one of the prizes 
offered at the canonization of San Jacinto ;* in 1596, 
he wrote a sonnet in ridicule of a great display of 
courage made in Andalusia after all danger was over 
and the English had evacuated Cadiz, which, under 
Essex, Elizabeth’s favorite, they had for a short time 
occupied;° and in 1598 he wrote another sonnet, 
in ridicule of an unseemly uproar that took place in the 
cathedral at Seville, from a pitiful jealousy between 
the municipality and the Inquisition, on occasion of 
the religious ceremonies observed there after the death 


of Philip the Second.° 


2 This extraordinary mass of docu- 
ments is preserved in the ‘‘ Archivos 
de las Indias,”’ which are admirably ar- 
ranged in the old and beautiful Ex- 
change built by Herrera in Seville, 
when Seville was the great entrepét be- 
tween Spain and her colonies. The 
papers referred to may be found in Es- 
tante II. Cajon 5, Legajo 1, and were 
discovered by the venerable Cean Ber- 
mudez in 1808, who showed them to 
me in 1818. The most important of 
them are published entire, and the rest 
are well abridged, in the Life of Cer- 
vantes by Navarrete (pp. 311-388). 
Cervantes petitioned in them for one of 
four offices, —the Auditorship of New 
Granada; that of the galleys of Car- 
thagena ; the Governorship of the Prov- 
ince of Soconusco ; or the place of Cor- 
regidor of the city of Paz. 


But, except these trifles, we 


8 «*Viéndose pues tan falto de dine- 
ros y aun no con muchos amigos, se 
acogid al remedio 4 que otros muchos 
perdidos en aquella ciudad [Sevilla] se 
acogen ; que es, el pasarse a las Indias, 
refugio y amparo de los desesperados de 
Espana, iglesia de los alzados, salvo 
conducto de los homicidas, pala y ecu- 
bierta de los jugadores, ahagaza general 
de mugeres libres, engaio comun de 
muchos y remedio particular de pocos.” 
El Zeloso Estremefio, Novelas, Tom. 
Li pals 

4 These verses may be found in Na- 
varrete, Vida, pp. 444, 445. 

5 Pellicer, Vida, ed. Don Quixote, 
(Madrid, 1797, 8vo, Tom. I. p. Ixxxv,} 
gives the sonnet. 

6 Sedano, Parnaso Espafiol, Tom. 
IX. p. 193. Inthe ‘‘ Viage al Parnaso,” 
c. 4, he calls it ‘‘Honra principal de 


i ie i i i i i e -e 


Cuar. XI] CERVANTES AT ARGAMASILLA. 135 


know of nothing that he wrote, during this active 
period of his life, unless we are to assign to it some of 
his tales, which, like the “ Espafiola Inglesa,”’ are con- 
nected with known contemporary events, or, like 
“Rinconete y Cortadillo,” savor so much of the man- 
ners of Seville, that it seems as if they could have 
been written nowhere else. 

*Of the next period of his life,—and it is *115 
the important one immediately preceding the 
publication of the First Part of Don Quixote,— we 
know even less than of the last. A uniform tradi- 
tion, however, declares that he was employed by the 
- Grand Prior of the Order of Saint John in La Mancha 
to collect rents due to his monastery in the village 
of Argamasilla; that he went there on this humble 
agency and made the attempt, but that the debtors 
refused payment, and, after persecuting him in dif- 
ferent ways, ended by throwing him into prison, 
where, in a spirit of indignation, he began to write 
the Don Quixote, making his hero a native of the 
village that treated him so ill, and laying the scene of 
most of the knight’s earlier adventures in La Mancha. 
But, though this is possible, and even probable, we 
have no direct proof of it. Cervantes says, indeed, 


quence, comparing Philip II. to Heze- 
kiah, who drove out heresy, and boast- 


mis escritos.” But he was mistaken, 
or he jested, —I rather think the last. 


For an account of the indecent uproar 
Cervantes ridiculed, and needful to ex- 
plain this sonnet, see Semanario Pinto- 
resco, Madrid, 1842, p. 177, and Espi- 
nosa, Hist. de Sevilla, 1627, Segunda 
Parte, ff. 112-117. The principal art- 
ists of the city were employed on the 
cutafalque sacrificed in this unseemly 
riot, and they made it as magnificent as 
possible. (Stirling’s Artists of Spain, 
1848, Vol. I. pp. 351, 403, 463.) The 
sermon delivered on the occasion by 
Maestro Fray Juan Bernal, and printed 
at Seville, 1599, 4to, ff. 18, is not 
without a sort of rude familiar elo- 


ing that, ‘‘like a Phoenix, as he was, 
he died in the nest he had himself built 
up,” — the famous Escurial. Bernal 
died in 1601, and a popular life of him 
was printed at Seville in about sixty 
doggerel quintilias, full of puns, and 
very characteristic of a period in which 
buffoonery was often one of the means 
by which religion was made palatable 
tothe rabble. The following is a speci- 
men of it :— 


Y que el varon soberano 
Fuesse Padre Santo es llano, 
Pues, quando le amortajaron, 
Mil cardenales le hallaron 
Hechos de su propria mano. 


136 CERVANTES AT VALLADOLID. [Perron IL 


in his Preface to the First Part, that his Don Quix- 
ote was begun in a prison;‘ but this may refer to 
his earlier imprisonment at Seville, or his subsequent 
one at Valladolid. All that is certain, therefore, is, 
that he had friends and relations in La Mancha; 
that, at some period of his life, he must have en- 
joyed an opportunity of acquiring the intimate 
knowledge of its people, antiquities, and topography, 
which the Don Quixote shows; and that this could 
hardly have happened except between the end of 
1598, when we lose all trace of him at Seville, and 
the beginning of 1603, when we find him established 
at Valladolid. 
To Valladolid he went, apparently because the 
court had been removed thither by the caprice of 
Philip the Third and the interests of his fa- 
*116 vorite, the Duke of Lerma; * but, as every- 
where else, there, too, he was overlooked and 
left in poverty. Indeed, we should hardly know he 
was in Valladolid at all before the publication of the 
First Part of his Don Quixote, but for two painful 
circumstances. The first 1s an account, in his own 
handwriting, for sewing done by his sister, who, hav- 
ing sacrificed everything for his redemption from cap- 
tivity, became dependent on him during her widow- 
hood, and died in his family. The other is, that in 


7 “Se engendrd en una carcel.” 
Avellaneda says the same thing in his 
Preface, but says it contemptuously : 
**Pero disculpan los yerros de su Pri- 
mera Parte en esta materia, el haberse 
escrito entre Jos de una carcel,” etc. 
I once thought that the article dos in 
this passage was an intimation that the 
residence of Cervantes in a jail was a 
matter of reproach to him. But Sir 
Edmund Head — so familiar with every- 
thing Spanish, and so acute in apply- 
ing his knowledge — pointed out to me 
the pun on the word ‘‘yerros,” (faults,) 


which is commonly sounded much like 
‘‘hierros” (trons); and, on referring 
to the original edition of Avellaneda, 
(1614,) I found the word actually spelt 
‘‘hierros,” (irons, chains,) while the 
large Dictionary of the Academy, (1739, 
in verb ‘‘ yerro,”) admitting that ‘‘ yer- 
ros” (faults) is sometimes spelt ‘‘ hier- 
ros,” settles the question. In its mild- 
est form, it is a poor quibble, intended 
to insult Cervantes with his misfor- 
tunes. There is a similar pun on the 
word in Lope’s ‘‘ Dorotea,” Acto IIL 
Ese. 7 


-™ 


el 


Car. XI.J CERVANTES AT VALLADOLID. 137 


one of those night-brawls common among the gal- 
lants of the Spanish court, a stranger was killed near 
the house where Cervantes lived; in consequence of 
which, and of some suspicions that fell on the family, 
he was, according to the hard provisions of the Spanish 
law; confined with the other principal witnesses until 
an investigation could take place.’ 

But, in the midst of poverty and embarrassments, 
and while acting in the humble capacity of general 
agent and amanuensis for those who needed his ser- 
vices,’ Cervantes had prepared for the press the First 
Part of his Don Quixote, which was licensed in 1604, 
at Valladolid, and printed in 1605, at Madrid. It 
was received with such decided favor, that, before the 
year was out, another edition was called for at Madrid, 
and two more elsewhere; circumstances which, after 
so many discouragements in other attempts to pro- 
cure a subsistence, naturally turned his thoughts more 
towards letters than they had been at any previous 
period of his life. 

In 1606, the court having gone back to Madrid, 
Cervantes followed it, and there passed the remain- 
der of his life; changing his residence to 
*different parts of the city at least seven *117 
times in the course of ten years, apparently 
as he was driven hither and thither by his neces- 


8 Pellicer’s Life, pp. exvi-cxxxi. It wrote at Valladolid an account, in fifty 


has been suggested, on the authority of 
a satirical sonnet attributed to Gon- 
gora, that Cervantes was employed by 
the Duke of Lerma to write an account 
of the festivities with which Howard, 
the English Ambassador, was welcomed 
in 1605. But the genuineness of the 
sonnet is doubtful, and it does not seem 
to me to bear the interpretation put 
upon it. (Navarrete, Vida, p. 456. 
D. Quixote, ed. Pellicer, 1797, Tom. I. 
p. exv.) It has also been suggested 
that Cervantes, in the same year, 1605, 


leaves quarto, of the festivities in that 
city on occasion of the birth of Philip 
IV. But, I think, he was then a per- 
soh of too little note to have been em- 
ployed for such a work. See the Span- 
ish translation of this History, Tom. 
IT. p. 550. 

9 One of the witnesses in the preced- 
ing criminal inquiry says that Cervan- 
tes was visited by different persons, 
‘‘nor ser hombre que escribe y trata 
negocios.” 


138 CERVANTES AND LOPE DE VEGA.  [Periop IL 


sities. In 1609, he joined the brotherhood of the 
Holy Sacrament, — one of those religious associations 
which were then fashionable, and the same of which 
Quevedo, Lope de Vega, and other distinguished men 
of letters of the time, were members. About the same 
period, too, he seems to have become known to most 
of these persons, as well as to others of the favored 
poets round the court, among whom were Espinel and 
the two Argensolas; though what were his relations 
with them, beyond those implied in the commendatory 
verses they prefixed to each other’s works, we do not 
know. 

Concerning his relations with Lope de Vega there 
has been much discussion to little purpose. Certain it 
is that Cervantes often praises this great literary idol 
of his age, and that four or five times Lope stoops from 
his pride of place and compliments Cervantes, though 
never beyond the measure of praise he bestows on 
many whose claims were greatly inferior. But in his 
stately flight it is plain that he soared much above the 
author of Don Quixote, to whose highest merits he 
seemed carefully to avoid all homage; and though 
I find no sufficient reason to suppose their relation to 
each other was marked by any personal jealousy or 
ill-will, as has been sometimes supposed, yet I can find 
no proof that it was either intimate or kindly. On 
the contrary, when we consider the good-nature of 
Cervantes, which made him praise to excess nearly all 
his other literary contemporaries, as well as the great- 
est of them all, and when we allow for the frequency 
of hyperbole in such praises at that time, which pre- 
vented them from being what they would now be, we 
may perceive an occasionai coolness in his manner, 


1° Laurel de Apolo, Silva 8, where he is praised only as a poet. 


Cuap. XI.] 


CERVANTES AND LOPE DE VEGA. 


139 


when he speaks of Lope, which shows that, without 
overrating his own merits and claims, he was not in- 
sensible to the difference in their respective positions, 


or to the injustice towards himself implied by it. 


In- 


deed, his whole tone, whenever he notices Lope, 
*seems to be marked with much personal dig- * 118 
nity, and to be singularly honorable to him.” 


1 Most of the materials for forming 
a judgment on this point in Cervantes’s 
character are to be found in Navarrete 
(Vida, 457-475), who maintains that 
Cervantes and Lope were sincere friends, 
and in Huerta (Leccion Critica, Madrid, 
1785, 18mo, p. 43 to the end), who 
maintains that Cervantes was an en- 
vious rival of Lope. As I cannot adopt 
either of these results, and think the 
last particularly unjust, I will venture 
to add one or two considerations. 

Lope was fifteen years younger than 
Cervantes, and was forty-three years 
old when the First Part of the Don 
Quixote was published ; but from that 
time till the death of Cervantes, a pe- 
riod of eleven years, he does not, that I 
am aware, once allude to him. The 
five passages in the immense mass of 
Lope’s works, in which alone, so far as 
I know, he speaks of Cervantes, are, 
—1: In the ‘‘ Dorothea,” 1598, twice 
slightly and without praise. 2. In the 
Preface to his own Tales, 1621, still 
more slightly, and even, I think, cold- 
ly. 38. In the ‘‘Laurel de Apolo,” 
1630, where there are twelve lines of 
cold punning eulogy of him, fourteen 
years after his death. 4. In his play, 
**El Premio del Bien Hablar,” printed 
in Madrid, 1635, where Cervantes is 
barely mentioned (Comedias, 4to, Tom. 
AXXI. f. 162). And 5. In ‘‘Amar sin 
Saber 4 Quien” (Comedias, Madrid, 
Tom. XXII., 1635), where (Jornada 
primera) Leonarda, one of the princi- 
pal ladies, says to her maid, who had 
just cited a ballad of Audalla and 
Xarifa to her, — 

Inez, take care; your common reading is, 

I know, the Ballad-book ; and, after all, 

Your case may prove, like that of the poor 
knight — 

to which Inez replies, interrupting her 

mistress, — 

Don Quixote of La Mancha, if you please, — 

May God Cervantes pardon ! — was a knight 


Of that wild, erring sort the Chronicle 

So magnifies. For me, I only read 

The Ballad-book, and find myself from day 

To day the better for it. 

All this looks very reserved ; but, when 
we add to it that there were numberless 
occasions on which Lope could have 
gracefully noticed the merit to which 
he could never have been insensible, — 
especially when he makes so free and 
unjustifiable a use of Cervantes’s ‘‘ Trato 
de Argel” in his own ‘‘ Esclavos de 
Argel,” absolutely introducing him by 
name on the stage, and giving him a 
prominent part in the action (Comedi- 
as, Caragoga, 1647, 4to, Tom. XXV. 
pp. 245, 251, 257, 262, 277), without 
showing any of those kindly or respect- 
ful feelings which it was easy and com- 
mon to show to friends on the Spanish 
stage, and which Calderon, for instance, 
so frequently shows to Cervantes (e. g. 
Casa con Dos Puertas, Jorn. I., etc.), 
—we can hardly doubt that Lope will- 
ingly overlooked and neglected Cer- 
vantes, at least from the time of the 
appearance of the First Part of Don 
Quixote, in 1605, till after its author’s 
death, in 1616. ' 

On the other hand, Cervantes, from 
the date of the ‘‘Canto de Caliope” in 
the ‘‘ Galatea,” 1584, when Lope was 
only twenty-two years old, to the date 
of the Preface to the Second Part of 
Don Quixote, 1615, only a year before 
his own death, was constantly giving 
Lope the praises due to one who, beyond 
all contemporary doubt or rivalship, 
was at the head of Spanish literature ; 
and, among other proofs of such ele- 
vated and generous feelings, prefixed, 
in 1598, a laudatory sonnet to Lope’s 
**Dragontea.” But, at the same time 
that he did this, and did it freely and 
fully, there is a dignified reserve and 
caution in some parts of his remarks 
about Lope that show he was not im- 
pelled by any warm, personal regard ; 


140 THE NOVELAS EXEMPLARES. 


e119 


[Periop II. 


*In 1613 he published his “ Novelas Exem- 


plares,” Instructive or Moral Tales,” twelve in 


number, and making one volume. 


Some of them were 


written several years before, as was “ The Impertinent 


a caution which is so obvious, that 
Avellaneda, in the Preface to his Don 
Quixote, maliciously interpreted it into 
envy. 

It therefore seems to me difficult to 
avoid the conclusion, that the relations 
between the two great Spanish authors 
of this period were such as might be 
expected, where one was, to an extraor- 
dinary degree, the idol of his time, 
and the other a suffering and neglected 
man. What is most agreeable about 
the whole matter is the generous jus- 
tice Cervantes never fails to render to 
Lope’s merits. 

But, since the preceding account, 
both in the text and note, was pub- 
lished, (1849,) more evidence has been 
discovered on the subject of the per- 
sonal relations of Cervantes and Lope ; 
— unhappily, such as leaves no doubt 
of Lope’s ungenerous feelings towards 
his great contemporary. It is pub- 
lished in the ‘‘ Nachtréage zur Ges- 
chichte der dramatischen Literatur und 
Kunst in Spanien von A. F. von 
Schack,” (Frankfurt am Main, 1854, 
8vo, pp. 81-—34,) and consists of ex- 
tracts, made by Duran, from autograph 
letters of Lope, found among the papers 
of Lope’s great patron and friend, the 
Duke de Sessa, who paid the expenses 
of his funeral, and inherited his manu- 
scripts. The. principal one, for the 
present purpose, is dated August 4, 
1604, while the Don Quixote was in 
the press; and when reading it we 
must bear in mind that Cervantes did 
not much regard the fashion of his 
time in prefixing laudatory sonnets, 
etc., of his friends, to his other works, 
and has ridiculed it outright in the 
jesting and satirical verses he has pre- 
fixed to his Don Quixote, in the names 
of Amadis de Gaula, Orlando Furioso, 
etc. Lope, under these circumstances, 
writes to his friend the Duke: ‘‘Of 
poets I speak not. Many are in the 
bud for next year; but there is none so 
bad as Cervantes, or so foolish as to 
praise Don Quixote,” — pero ninguno 
hay tan malo como Cervantes, ni tan 
necio que alabe & Don Quixote. And 


plays to Cervantes.” 


further on, speaking of satire, he says, 
“Tt is a thing as hateful to me as my 
little books are to Almendares, and my 
Of course there 
can be no mistake about the feelings 
with which such bitter words were 
written. They are the more cruel, as 
Cervantes was then a suffering man, 
living in severe poverty at Valladolid, 
and Lope knew it. 

I do not know who is hit under the 
name of Almendares, but suspect it is 
a misspelling or misprint of that of 
Almendariz, who published poor re- 
ligious poetry in the popular style — 
populart carmine —in 1603 and 1613, 
and is praised by Cervantes in his Viage 
al Parnaso. 

I have said nothing here of the son- 
nets first published by Pellicer in his 
*¢ Biblioteca de Traductores” (Tom. I., 
1778, pp. 170, etc.). I mean two at- 
tributed to Cervantes and one to Lope, 
in which those great men are made to 
ridicule each other in very bad taste ; 
—J have, I say, not mentioned these 
sonnets, partly because, even as set 
forth by Pellicer, they have a very sus- 
picious look, but chiefly. because the 
matter at the time was sifted by Huer- 
ta, Forner, etc., and no doubt was left 
that they are spurious. See ‘‘ Leccion 
Critica,” wut supra ;— ‘‘Tentativa de 
aprovechar el merito de la Leccion 
Critica, en defensa de Cervantes por 
Don Placido Guerrero,” (Madrid, 1785, 
18mo, pp. 30, ec.,) and finally, ‘‘ Re- 
flexiones sobre la Leccion Critica por 
Tome Cecial, ec. las publica Don J. P. 
Forner.” Madrid, 1786, 18mo, pp. 
107 - 128. 

12 He explains in his Preface the 
meaning he wishes to give the word 
exemplares, saying, ‘‘ Heles dado nom- 
bre de exemplares, y si bien lo miras, 
no hay ninguna de quien no se puede 
sacar algun exemplo provechoso.”” The 
word exemplo, from the time of the 
Archpriest of Hita and Don Juan Man- 
uel, has had the meaning of instruction 
or instructive story. The novelas have 
been the most successful of Cervantes’s 
works, except his D. Quixote. 


Cuar. XI.] THE NOVELAS EXEMPLARES. 141 


Curiosity,” inserted in the First Part of Don Quixote,” 
and ‘“ Rinconete y Cortadillo,” which is mentioned there, 
so that both must be dated as early as 1604; while oth- 
ers contain internal evidence of the time of their 
composition, * as the “ Espatiola Inglesa” does, * 120 
which seems to have been written in 1611. 
All of these stories are, as he intimates in their Pref- 
ace, original, and most of them have the air of being 
drawn from his personal experience and observation.” 
Their value is different, for they are written with 
different views, and in a variety of style and manner 
greater than he has elsewhere shown; but most of 
them contain touches of what is peculiar in his talent, 
and are full of that rich eloquence, and of those pleas- 
ing descriptions of natural scenery, which always flow 
so easily from his pen. They have little in common 
with the graceful story-telling spirit of Boccaccio and 


his followers, and still less 


13 The ‘‘Curioso Impertinente,”’ first 
printed in 1605, in the First Part of Don 
Quixote, was printed in Paris in 1608, 
—five years before the collected Nove- 
las appeared in Madrid, — by Cesar 
Oudin, a teacher of Spanish at the 
French court, who caused several other 
Spanish books to be printed in Paris, 
where the Castilian was in much favor 
from the intermarriages between the 
crowns of France and Spain. Oudin 
printed the Curioso Impertinente, with- 
out its author’s name, at the end of a 
volume entitled Silva curiosa de Julian 
de Medrano, cavallero Navarro, ec., cor- 
regida en esta nueva edicion, ec., por 
Cesar Oudin. Paris, 1608, 8vo, pp. 
328. Many other proofs could be given 
of the fashionable prevalence of Spanish 
in France. Cervantes says, somewhat 
extravagantly, ‘‘En Francia ni muger 
ni varon dexa de aprender la Lengua 
Castellana.” (Persiles, Lib. III. c. 13.) 
But the Spanish theatre established in 
Paris twelve years is proof enough. See 
post, Chap. XXVI. note 12. 

14 In the prologue, Cervantes says 


with the strictly practical 


these tales are the oldest in the lan- 
guage, — ‘‘Yo soy el primero que he 
novelado en lengua Castellana”’ ; — but 
he explains this by saying that those 
who had preceded him in this style of 
composition had borrowed their fictions 
from other languages. This is true of 
Timoneda, but it is not true of the Conde 
Lucanor. I suppose, however, that he 
referred to the ‘* Novelas,” then coming 
in fashion, which were taken from the 
Italian. Those of Cervantes have been, 
undoubtedly, after the Don Quixote, 
the most favored of all his works, and 
the most deserving of favor. One sep- 
arate testimony to their power should, 
however, not be forgotten. In Lock- 
hart’s Life of Scott (ed. London, 1839, 
Vol. X. p. 187) we are told that Scott 
‘‘expressed the most unbounded admi- 
ration for Cervantes, and said that the 
‘Novelas’ of that author had inspired 
him with the ambition of excelling in 
fiction, and that, until disabled by ill- 
ness, he had been a constant reader of 
them.” 


i142 THE NOVELAS EXEMPLARES. (Pertop II. 


tone of Don Juan Manuel’s tales; nor, on the other 
hand, do they approach, except in the case of the Im- 
pertinent Curiosity, the class of short novels which 
have been frequent in other countries within the last 
century. The more, therefore, we examine them, the 
more we shall find that they are original in their com- 
position and general tone, and that they are strongly 
marked with the individual genius of their author, as 
well as with the more peculiar traits of the national 
character,— the ground, no doubt, on which they 
have always been favorites at home, and less valued 
than they deserve to be abroad. As works of inven- 
tion they rank, among their author’s productions, next 
after Don Quixote ; in correctness and grace of style, 
they stand before it. 

The first in the series, “ The Little Gypsy Girl,” is 
the story of a beautiful creature, Preciosa, who had 
been stolen, when an infant, from a noble family, and 
educated in the wild community of the Gypsies, — 
that mysterious and degraded race which, until within 
the last fifty years, has always thriven in Spain since 
it first appeared there in the fifteenth century. There 

is a truth, as well as a spirit, in parts of this 
* 121 little story, that * cannot be overlooked. The 

description of Preciosa’s first appearance in 
Madrid during a great religious festival; the effect 
produced by her dancing and singing in the streets ; 
her visits to the houses to which she was called for 
the amusement of the rich; and the conversations, 
compliments, and style of entertainment, are all ad- 
mirable, and leave no doubt of their truth and re- 
ality. But there are other passages which, mis- 
taking in some respects the true Gypsy character, 
seem as if they were rather drawn from some such 


Cuap. XI1.] THE NOVELAS EXEMPLARES. 1438 


imitations of it as the “Life of Bampfylde Moore Ca- 
rew” than from a familiarity with oon) life as it 
then existed in Spain.” 

The next of the tales is very different, and yet no 
less within the personal experience of Cervantes 
himself. It is called “The Generous Lover,’ and is 
nearly the same in its incidents with an episode found 
in his own “Trato de Argel.’ The scene is laid in 
Cyprus, two years after the capture of that island 
by the Turks, in 1570; but here it is his own adven- 
tures in Algiers upon which he draws for the materials 
and coloring of what is Turkish in his story, and the 
vivacity of his descriptions shows how much of reality 
there is in both. 

The third story, “Rinconete y Cortadillo,’ is again 
quite unlike any of the others. It is an account, 
partly in the picaresque style, of two young vagabonds, 
not without ingenuity and spirit, who join at Seville, 
in 1569, one of those organized communities of robbers 
and beggars which often recur in the history of Span- 
ish society and manners during the last three centuries. 
The realm of Monipodio, their chief, reminds us at once 
of Alsatia in Sir Walter Scott’s “Nigel,” and the 
resemblance is made still more obvious afterwards, 
when, in “The Colloquy of the Dogs,’ we find the 
same Monipodio in secret league with the officers of 
justice.*# A single trait, however, will show with 
what fidelity Cervantes has copied from nature. The 
members of this confederacy, who lead the most 


16 This story has been dramatized 
more than once in Spain, and freely 
used elsewhere, —among the rest, as 
an opera, by Carl Maria Weber. See 
note on the ‘‘Gitanilla” of Solis, post, 
Chap. XXV. 

154 The name of ‘‘Monipodio” was 
no more taken by accident than that of 
Jonathan Oldenbuck, Mr. Allworthy, 


or a hundred others of the same sort. 
The large dictionary of the Spanish 
Academy makes Monipodio a popular 
corruption of Monipolio; and Antonio 
Perez, in one of his letters to Gil de 
Mesa, extends it to frauds in contracts, 
forged testaments, etc.; in short, to 
general roguery. 


144 THE NOVELAS EXEMPLARES. [Perrop II. 


*122 dissolute and lawless lives, are yet *repre- 

sented as superstitious, and as having their 
images, their masses, and their contributions for pious 
charities, as if robbery were a settled and respectable 
vocation, a part of whose income was to be devoted to 
religious purposes in order to consecrate the remainder ; 
a delusion which, in forms alternately ridiculous and 
revolting, has subsisted in Spain from very early times: 
down to the present day.” 

It would be easy to go on and show how the rest of 
the tales are marked with similar traits of truth and 
nature: for example, the story founded on the adven- 
tures of a Spanish girl carried to England when Cadiz 
was sacked in 1596; “The Jealous Estremadurian,’ 
and “The Fraudulent Marriage,” the last two of which 
bear internal evidence of being founded on fact; and 
even “The Pretended Aunt,’ which, as he did not 
print it himself, — apparently in consequence of its 
coarseness, — ought not now to be placed among his 
works, is after all the story of an adventure that 
really occurred at Salamanca in 1575." Indeed, they 


16 Tt is an admirable hit, when Rin- 
conete, first becoming acquainted with 
one of the rogues, asks him, ‘‘ Es vuesa 
merced por ventura ladron?” and the 
rogue replies, ‘‘S, para servir d Dios y 
cd la buena gente.” (Novelas, Tom. I. 
p-. 235.) And, again, the scene (pp. 
242-247) where Rinconete and Corta- 
dillo are received among the robbers, 
and that (pp. 254, 255) where two of 
the shameless women of the gang are 
very anxious to provide candles to set 
up as devout offerings before their pa- 
tron saints, are hardly less happy, and 
are perfectly true to the characters rep- 
resented. Indeed, it is plain from this 
tale, and from several of the Entreme- 
ses of Cervantes, that he was familiar 
with the life of the rogues of his time. 
Fermin Caballero, in a pleasant tract 
on the Geographical Knowledge of Cer- 
vantes, (Pericia Geografica de Cervantes, 


Madrid, 1840, 12mo,) notes the aptness 
with which Cervantes alludes to the 
different localities in the great cities of 
Spain, which constituted the rendez- 
vous and lurking-places of its vagabond 
population. (p. 75.) Among these Se- 
ville was pre-eminent. Guevara, when 
he describes a community like that of 
Monipodio, places it, as Cervantes does, 
in Seville. Diablo Cojuelo, Tranco 
IX: 

17 Coarse as it is, however, the ‘‘ Tia 
Fingida” was found, with ‘‘ Rinconete 
y Cortadillo,” and several other tales 
and miscellanies, in a manuscript col- 
lection of stories and trifles made 1606— 
1610, for the amusement of the Arch- 
bishop of Seville, D. Fernando Nito de 
Guevara ; and long afterwards carefully 
preserved by the Jesuits of St. Herme- 
negild. A castigated copy of it was 
printed by Arrieta in his ‘‘ Espiritu de 


Cuap. XI.] THE VIAGE DEL PARNASO. 145 


are all fresh from the * racy soil of the national * 123 
character, as that character is found in Anda- 

lusia; and are written with an idiomatic richness, 
a spirit, and a grace, which, though they are the oldest 
tales of their class in Spain, have left them ever since 
without successful rivals. Ten editions of them were 
published in nine years. 

In 1614, the year after they appeared, Cervantes 
printed his “Journey to Parnassus”; a satire in ¢erza 
rima, divided into eight short chapters, and written in 
professed imitation of an Italian satire, by Cesare 
Caporali, on the same subject and in the same meas- 
ure”> The poem of Cervantes has little merit. It 
is an account of a summons by Apollo, requiring all 
good poets to come to his assistance for the purpose of 
driving all the bad poets from Parnassus, in the course 
of which Mercury is sent in a royal galley, allegorically 


Miguel de Cervantes” (Madrid, 1814, 
12mo); but the Prussian ambassador 
in Spain, if I mistake not, soon after- 
wards obtained possession of an unal- 
tered copy, certified by Navarrete to be 
exact, and sent it to Berlin, where it 
was published by the famous Greek 
scholar, F. A. Wolf, first in one of the 
periodicals of Berlin, and afterwards in 
a separate pamphlet. (See his Vorbe- 
richt to the ‘‘'Tia Fingida, Novela in- 
édita de Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra,” 
Berlin, 1818, 8vo.) It has since been 
printed in Spain with the other tales of 
Cervantes. 

An acute, characteristic criticism of 
the “Tia Fingida,” by D. Bart. José 
Gallardo, may be found in the first num- 
ber of his “Oriticon,” 1835 ; giving, 
among other curious matter, improved 
readings of it in several places. 

Some of the tales of Cervantes were 
translated into English as early as 1640 ; 
but not well into French, I think, till 
Viardot published his translation (Paris, 
1838, 2 tom. 8vo). Even he, however, 
did not venture on the obscure puns 
and jests of the ‘‘ Licenciado Vidriera,” 
a fiction of which Moreto made use in 
his play of the same: name, representing 


VOL. II. 10 


the Licentiate, however, as a feigned 
madman and not as a real one, and 
showing little of the humor of the origi- 
nal conception. (Comedias Escogidas, 
Madrid, 4to, Tom. V. 1653.) Under 
the name of ‘‘ Léocadie,” there is a poor 
abridgment of the ‘‘ Fuerza de la San- 
gre,” by Florian. The old English 
translation by Mabbe (London, 1640, 
folio) is said by Godwin to be ‘‘ perhaps 
the most perfect specimen of prose 
translation in the English language.” 
(Lives of E. and J. Philips, London, 
1815, 4to, p. 246.) The praise is ex- 
cessive, but the translation is certainly 
very well done. It, however, extends 
only to six of the tales. 

® The first edition is in small duo- 
Ssaspeae (Madrid, 1614,) 80 leaves ; bet- 
ter printed, I think, than any other of 
his works that were published under 
his own care. Little but the opening 
is imitated from Cesare Caporali’s ‘‘ Vi- 
aggio in Parnaso,” which is only about 
one fifth as long as the poem of Cer- 
vantes. The ‘‘ Viage del Parnaso” had 
no success. Unless there is an edition 
of Milan, 1624, which I know only from 
N. Antonio, none appeared after the 
first, I believe, till 1736. 


146 THE VIAGE DEL PARNASO. [Prrtop II. 


built and rigged with different kinds of verses, to Cer- 
vantes, who, being confidentially consulted about the 
Spanish poets that can be trusted as allies in the war 
against bad taste, has an opportunity of speaking his 
opinion on whatever relates to the poetry of his time. 

The most interesting part is the fourth chapter, 
in which he shehtly notices the works he has himself 

written,” and complains, with a gayety that at 
*124 least proves *his good-humor, of the poverty 

and neglect with which they have been re- 
warded.” It may be difficult, perhaps, to draw a line 
between such feelings as Cervantes here very strongly 
expresses, and the kindred ones of vanity and _ pre- 
sumption; but yet, when his genius, his wants, and his 
manly struggles against the gravest evils of life are 
considered, and when to this are added the light- 
heartedness and simplicity with which he always 
speaks of himself, and the mdulgence he always shows 
to others, few will complain of him for claiming with 
some boldness honors that had been coldly withheld, 
and to which he felt that he was entitled. 

At the end he has added a humorous prose dialogue, 
called the “ Adjunta,” defending his dramas, and attack- 
ing the actors who refused to represent them. He 
says that he had prepared six full-length plays, and six 
Entremeses, or farces; but that the theatre had its 


19 Among them he speaks of many Fernandez, Madrid, 1796, 8vo, Tom. 


ballads that he had written : — XVI. p. 175. Mayans, Vida de Cer- 
p y 

Yo he compuesto Romances infinitos, vantes, No. 164. _ k 

Y¥ el de los Zelos es aquel que estimo 2” Apollo tells him, (Viage, ed. 1784, 

Entre otros, que los tengo por malditos. 55,) 

c. 4. Beis 
All these are lost, except such as may ‘* Mas si quieres salir de tu querella, 
be found scattered through his longer Alegre y no confuse y consalaie, 

i Al hishae ih Dobla tu capa y siéntate sobre ella. 
Works, and some which have been sus- Que tal vez suele un venturoso estado, 
pected to be his in the Romancero Gen- Quando le niega sin razon la suerte, 
eral. Clemencin, notes to his ed. of i one mas Stee que ee 3 

: ien parece, Sefior, que no se advier 
Don Quixote, Tom. III. pp. 156, 214. Le respond{, " que yo no tengo capa! 


Coleccion de Poesias de Don Ramon El dixo: ‘‘ Aunque sea asi, gusto de verte.” 


a 


Cuap. XI.] 147 


THE ‘VIAGE DEL PARNASO. 


pensioned poets, and so took no note of him. The 
next year, however, when their number had become 
eight plays and eight Entremeses, he found a publisher, 
though not without difficulty; for the bookseller, as 
he says in the Preface, had been warned by a noble 
author, that from his prose much might be hoped, but 
from his poetry nothing. And truly his position in 
relation to the theatre was not one to be desired. 
Thirty years had passed since he had himself been 
a successful writer for it; and the twenty or more 
pieces he had then produced, some of which he men- 
tions anew with great complacency,” were, no 
doubt, long since forgotten. *In the interval, * 125 
as he tells us, “that great prodigy of nature, 

Lope de Vega, had raised himself to the monarchy of 
the theatre, subjected it to his control, and placed 
all its actors under his jurisdiction; filled the world 
with becoming plays, happily and well written;.... 
and if any persons (and in truth there are not a 
few such) have desired to enter into competition with 
him and share the glory of his labors, all they have 
done, when put together, would not equal the half of 
what has been done by him alone.” ” 


21 The ‘‘Confusa” was evidently his talla Naval,” which, from its name, 


favorite among these earlier pieces. In 
the Viage he says of it, — 

Soy por quien La Confusa nada fea 

Parecid en los teatros admirable ; 
and in the ‘‘ Adjunta” he says, ‘*De 
la que mas me precio fué y es, de una 
llamada La Confusa, la qual, con paz 
sea dicho, de quantas comedias de capa 
y espada hasta hoy se han representado, 
bien puede tener lugar sefalado por 
buena entre las mejores.” This boast, 
it shonld be remembered, was made in 
1614, when Cervantes had printed the 
First Part of the Don Quixote, and 
when Lope and his school were at the 
height of their glory. It is probable, 
however, that we, at the present day, 
should be more curious to see the ‘‘ Ba- 


contained, I think, his personal ex- 
periences at the fight of Lepanto, as 
the ‘‘Trato de Argel” contained those 
at Algiers. 

22 After alluding to his earlier efforts 
on the stage, Cervantes goes on in the 
Prdlogo to his new plays: ‘‘Tuve otras 
cosas en que ocuparme ; dexé la pluma 
y las comedias, y entrdé luego el mon- 
struo de naturaleza, el gran Lope de 
Vega, y alzdése con la monarquia comica ; 
avasall6 y puso debaxo de su juris- 
diccion 4 todos los Farsantes, llend el 
mundo de Comedias proprias, felices y 
bien razonadas ; y tantas que passan de 
diez mil pliegos los que tiene escritos, 
y todas (que es una de las mayores 
cosas que puede decirse) las ha visto 


148 THE COMEDIAS OF CERVANTES. [Perrop II. 


The number of these writers for the stage in 1615 
was, as Cervantes intimates, very considerable ; and 
when he goes on to enumerate, among the more suc- 
cessful, Mira de Mescua, Guillen de Castro, Aguilar, 
Luis Velez de Guevara, Gaspar de Avila, and several 
others, we perceive, at once, that the essential direction 
and character of the Spanish drama were at last 
determined. Of course, the free field open to him 
when he composed the plays of his youth was now 
closed ; and as he wrote from the pressure of want, he 
could venture to write only according to the models 
triumphantly established by Lope de Vega and his 
imitators. 

The eight plays or Comedias he now produced were, 
therefore, all composed in the style and in the forms 
of verse already fashionable and settled. Their subjects 
are as various as the subjects of his tales. One of 
them is a rifacimento of his “Trato de Argel,” and 
is curious, because it contains some of the materials, 

and even occasionally the very phraseology, 
*126 of the story *of the Captive in Don Quixote, 

and because Lope de Vega thought fit after- 
wards to use it somewhat too freely in the composition 
of his own “ Esclavos en Argel.’ Much of it seems 
to be founded in fact; among the rest, the deplorable » 
martyrdom of a child in the third act, and the repre- 


representar, t oido decir (por lo menos) of others afterward ; and ends with a 


que se han representado ; y si algunos, 
(que hay muchos) han querido entrar 
a la parte y gloria de sus trabajos, todos 
juntos no llegan en lo que han escrito 
a la mitad de lo que él solo,” ete. 

73 This play, which Cervantes calls 
‘*Los Bafios de Argel,” (Comedias, 
1749, Tom. I. p. 125,) opens with the 
landing of a Moorish corsair on the 
coast of Valencia ; gives an account of 
the sufferings of the captives taken in 
this descent, as well as the sufferings 


Moorish wedding and a Christian mar- 


tyrdom. (See ante, Chap. X.) He 
says of it himself :— 
No de Ja imaginacion 
Este trato se sacs, 
Que la verdad lo fragué 
Bien lejos de la ficcion. 
p. 186. 


The verbal resemblances between the 
play and the story of the Captive are 
chiefly in the first yornada of the play, 
i oy with Don Quixote, Parte 
. c. 40. 


Cuar. XI.] THE COMEDIAS OF CERVANTES. 149 


sentation of one of the Coloquios or farces of Lope de 
Rueda by the slaves in their prison-yard. 

Another of the plays, the story of which is also said 
to be true, is “ El] Gallardo Espafol,” or The Bold Span- 
iard.* Its hero, named Saavedra, and therefore, per- 
haps, of the old family into which that of Cervantes 
had long before intermarried, goes over to the Moors 
for a time, from a point of honor about a lady, but 
turns out at last a true Spaniard in everything else, as 
well as in the exaggeration of his gallantry. “The 
Sultana” is founded on the history of a Spanish cap- 
tive, who rose so high in the favor of the Grand Turk, 
that she is represented in the play as having become, 
not merely a favorite, but absolutely the Sultana, and 
yet as continuing to be a Christian, —a story which 
was readily believed in Spain, though only the first 
part of it is true, as Cervantes must have known, since 
Catharine of Oviedo, who is thé heroine, was his con- 
temporary.” The “Rufian Dichoso” is a Don 
* Juan in licentiousness and crime, who is con- * 127 
verted and becomes so extraordinary a saint, 
that, to redeem the soul of a dying sinner, Dofia Ana 
de Trevifio, he formally surrenders to her his own 
virtues and good works, and assumes her sins, be- 


* The part we should least willingly 
suppose to be true—that of a droll, 
roistering soldier, who gets a shameful 
subsistence by begging for souls in Pur- 
gatory, and spending on his own glut- 
tony the alms he receives -—is particu- 
larly vouched for by Cervantes. ‘‘ Esto 
de pedir para las animas es cuento ver- 
dadero, que yo lo vt... How so indecent 
an exhibition on the stage could be per- 
mitted is the wonder. Once, for in- 
stance, when in great personal danger, 
he prays thus, as if he had read the 
**Clouds” of Aristophanes : — 


Animas de Purgatorio! 
Fayoreced me, Sefioras ! 


Que mi peligro es notorio, 
Si ya no estais en estas horas 
Durmiendo en el dormitorio. 
Tom. I, p. 34. 
At the end he says his principal intent 
has been, — 
Mezclar verdades 
Con fabulosos intentos. 
The Spanish doctrine of the play —all 
for love and glory — is well expressed 
in the two following lines from the 
second jornada : — 
Que por reynar y por amor no hay culpa, 
Que no tenga perdon, y halle disculpa. 


25 Se vino 4 Constantinopla, 
Creo el ano de seiscientos, 
Jor. IIL 


150 THE COMEDIAS OF CERVANTES. [Perron II. 


ginning anew, through incredible sufferings, the career 
of penitence and reformation; all of which, or at least 
what is the most gross and revolting in it, is declared 
by Cervantes, as an eye-witness, to be true.* 

The remaining four plays are no less various in their 
subjects, and no less lawless in the modes of treating 
them; and all the eight are divided into three jornadas, 
which Cervantes uses as strictly synonymous with 
acts.” All preserve the character of the Fool, who in 
one instance is an ecclesiastic,* and all extend over 
any amount of time and space that is found convenient 
to the action; the “Rufian Dichoso,’ for instance, 
beginning in Seville and Toledo, during the youth of 
the hero, and ending in Mexico in his old age. The 
personages represented are extravagant in their num- 
ber, — once amounting to above thirty, — and among 
them, besides every variety of human existences, are 
Demons, Souls in Purgatory, Lucifer, Fear, Despair, 
Jealousy, and other similar phantasms. The truth is, 
Cervantes had renounced all the principles of the 
drama which his discreet canon had so gravely set 
forth ten years earlier in the First Part of Don Quixote; 
and now, whether with the consent of his will, or only 
with that of his poverty, we cannot tell, but, as may 
be seen, not merely in the plays themselves, but in 
a sort of induction to the second act of the Rufian 


26 The Church prayers on the stage 
in this play, and especially in Jornada 
II., and the sort of legal contract used 
to transfer the merits of the healthy 
saint to the dying sinner, are among 
the revolting exhibitions of the Span- 
ish drama which at first seem inexpli- 
cable, but which any one who reads far 
in it easily understands. Cervantes, in 
many parts of this strange play, avers 
the truth of what he thus represents, 
saying, ‘‘ Todo esto fué verdad”; ‘‘ To- 
do esto fué asi”; ‘‘ Asi se cuenta en su 
historia,” ete. 


27 He uses the words as convertible. 
Tom. I. .pp. 21.2239 Lomas tees 
etc. 

28 In the ‘‘ Bafios de Argel,” where 
he is sometimes indecorous enough, as 
when, (Tom. I. p. 151,) giving the 
Moors the reason why his old general, 
Don John of Austria, does not come to 
subdue Algiers, he says : — 


Sin duda, que, en el cielo, 

Debia de haber gran guerra, 

Do el General faltaba, 

Y 4 Don Juan se llevaron para serlo. 


Cuar. XI.] THE ENTREMESES OF CERVANTES. Lot 


Dichoso, he had * fully and knowingly adopted *128 
the dramatic theories of Lope’s school. 

The eight Entremeses are better than the eight full- 
length plays. They are short farces, generally in 
prose, with a slight plot, and sometimes with none, 
and were intended merely to amuse an audience in the 
intervals between the acts of the longer pieces. “The 
Spectacle of Wonders,’ for instance, is only a series of 
practical tricks to frighten the persons attending a 
puppet-show, so as to persuade them that they see 
what is really not on the stage. “The Watchful 
Guard” interests us, because he seems to have drawn 
the character of the soldier from his own; and the 
date of 1611, which is contained in it, may indicate the 
time when it was written. “'The Jealous Old Man” is 
a reproduction of the tale of “The Jealous Estremadu- 
rian,’ with a different and more spirited conclusion. 
And the “ Cueva de Salamanca” is one of those jests 
at the expense of husbands which are common enough 
on the Spanish stage, and were, no doubt, equally 
common in Spanish life and manners. All, indeed, 
have an air of truth and reality, which, whether they 
were founded in fact or not, it was evidently the 
author’s purpose to give them. 

But there was an insuperable difficulty in the way 
of all his efforts on the stage. Cervantes had not 
dramatic talent, nor a clear perception how dramatic 
effects were to be produced. From the time when he 
wrote the “'Trato de Argel,” which was an exhibition 
of the sufferings he had himself witnessed and shared 
in Algiers, he seemed to suppose that whatever was 
both absolutely true and absolutely striking could be 
produced with effect on the theatre ; thus confounding 
the province of romantic fiction and story-telling with 


152 THE COMEDIAS OF CERVANTES.  [Psriop II. 


that of theatrical representation, and often relying on 
trivial incidents and an humble style for effects which 
could be produced only by ideal elevation and inci- 
dents so combined by a dramatic instinct as to produce 
a dramatic interest. 
This was, probably, owing in part to the different 
direction of his original genius, and in part 
*129 to the condition *of the theatre, which in his 
youth he had found open to every kind of ex- 
periment and really settled in nothing. But whatever 
may have been the cause of his failure, the failure 
itself has been a great stumbling-block in the way of 
Spanish critics, who have resorted to somewhat violent 
means in order to prevent the reputation of Cervantes 
from being burdened with it. Thus, Blas de Nasarre, 
the king’s lbrarian,— who, in 1749, published the 
first edition of these unsuccessful dramas that had ap- 
peared since they were printed above a century earlier, 
— would persuade us, in his Preface, that they were 
written by Cervantes to parody and caricature the 
theatre of Lope de Vega; though, setting aside all 


29 See the early part of the ‘‘ Prologo 
del que hace imprimir.” I am not cer- 
tain that Blas de Nasarre was perfectly 
fair in all this ; for he printed, in 1732, 
an edition of Avellaneda’s continuation 
of Don Quixote, in the Preface to which 
he says that he thinks the character of 
Avellaneda’s Sancho is more natural 
than that of Cervantes’s Sancho; that 
the Second Part of Cervantes’s Don 
Quixote is taken from Avellaneda’s ; 
and that, in its essential merits, the 
work of Avellaneda is equal to that of 
Cervantes. ‘‘No se puede disputar,” 
he says, ‘‘la gloria de la invencion de 
Cervantes, aunque no es inferior la de 
la imitacion de Avellaneda”; to which 
he adds afterwards, ‘‘ Es cierto que es 
necesario mayor esfuerzo de ingenio 
para afiadir 4 las primeras invenciones, 
que para hacerlas.” (See Avellaneda, 
Don Quixote, Madrid, 1805, 12mo, 


Tom. I. p. 34.) Now, the Jwicio, or 
Preface, from which these opinions are 
taken, and which is really the work of 
Nasarre, is announced by him, not as 
his own, but as the work of an anony- 
mous friend, precisely as if he were not 
willing to avow such opinions under his 
own name. (Pellicer’s Vida de Cer- 
vantes, ed. Don Quixote, I. p. elxvi.) 
In this way a disingenuous look is given 
to what would otherwise have been only 
an absurdity ; and what, taken in con- 
nection with this reprint of Cervantes’s 
poor dramas and the Preface to them, 
seems like a willingness to let down the 
reputation of a genius that Nasarre 
could not comprehend. 

It is intimated, in an anonymous 
pamphlet, called ‘‘ Examen Critéco del 
Tomo Primero del Antiquixote,’”’ (Ma- 
drid, 1806, 12mo,) that Nasarre had 
sympathies with Avellaneda as an Ara- 


Cuar. XI.] THE COMEDIAS OF CERVANTES. 153 


that at once presents itself from the personal relations 
of the parties, nothing can be more serious than the 
interest Cervantes took in the fate of his plays, and the 
confidence he expressed in their dramatic merit ; while, 
at the same time, not a line has ever been pointed 
out as a parody in any one of them.” 

*This position being untenable, Lampillas, 
who, in the latter part of the last century, wrote 
along defence of Spanish literature against the sugges- 
tions of Tiraboschi and Bettinelli in Italy, gravely main- 
tains that Cervantes sent, indeed, eight plays and eight 
Entremeses to the booksellers, but that the booksellers 
took the liberty to change them, and printed eight others 
with his name and Preface. It should not, however, be 
forgotten that Cervantes lived to prepare two works 
after this, and if such an insult had been offered him, 
the country, judging from the way in which he treated 
the less gross offence of Avellaneda, would have been 


* 130 


filled with his reproaches and remonstrances.” 


gonese; and the pamphlet in question 
being understood to be the work of J. 
A. Pellicer, the editor of Don Quixote, 
this intimation deserves notice. It may 
be added, that Nasarre belonged to the 
French school of the eighteenth century 
in Spain, —a school that saw little 
merit in the older Spanish drama. His 
remarks on it, in his preface to Cer- 
vantes, and on the contemporary Eng- 
lish school of comedy, show this plainly 
enough, and leave no doubt that his 
knowledge upon the whole subject was 
inconsiderable, and his taste as bad as 
it well could be. 

80 The extravagant opinion, that these 
plays of Cervantes were written to dis- 
credit the plays then in fashion on the 
stage, just as the Don Quixote was writ- 
ten to discredit the fashionable books 
of chivalry, did not pass uncontradicted 
at the time. The year after it was 
published, a pamphlet appeared, enti- 
tled *‘ La Sinrazon impugnada.y Beata 
de Lavapies, Coloquio Critico apuntado 
al disparatado Prdlogo que sirve de de- 


lantal (segun nos dice su Autor) 4 las 
Comedias de Miguel de Cervantes, com- 
puesto por Don Joseph Carrillo” (Ma- 
drid, 1750, 4to, pp. 25). It is a spir- 
ited little tract, chiefly devoted to a 


‘defence of Lope and of Calderon, though 


the point about Cervantes is not for- 
gotten (pp. 13-15). But in the same 
year a longer work appeared on the 
same side, called ‘‘ Discurso Critico 
sobre el Origen, Calidad, y Estado pre- 
sente de las Comedias de Espajia, con- 
tra el Dictaémen que las supone cor- 
rompidas, etc., por un Ingenio de esta 
Corte” (Madrid, 1750, 4to, pp. 285). 
The author was a lawyer in Madrid, D. 
Thomas Zabaleta, and he writes with as 
little philosophy and judgment as the 
other Spanish critics of his time; but 
he treats Blas de Nasarre with small 
ceremony. 

81 «* Ensayo Histdrico-apologético de 
la Literatura Espafiola,” Madrid, 1789, 
8vo, Tom. VI. pp. 170, etc. ‘*Supri- 
miendo las que verdaderamente eran de 
él,” are the bold words of the critic. 


154 SICKNESS AND DEATH OF CERVANTES. [Penton II. 


Nothing remains, therefore, but to confess — what 
seems, indeed, to be quite incontestable — that Cer- 
vantes wrote several plays which fell seriously below 
what might have been hoped from him. Passages, 
indeed, may be found in them where his genius asserts 
itself. “The Labyrinth of Love,” for instance, has a 
chivalrous air and plot that make it interesting; and 
the Entremes of “The Pretended Biscayan” contains 
specimens of the peculiar humor with which we always _ 
associate the name of its author. Others are marked 
with the poetical genius that never deserted him. 
But it is quite too probable that he had made up 
his mind to sacrifice his own opinions respecting the 
drama to the popular taste; and if the constraint he 
thus laid upon himself was one of the causes of his fail- 
ure, it only affords another ground for our inter- 
est in the fate of one whose * whole career was 
so deeply marked with trials and calamity.” 

But the life of Cervantes, with all its troubles and 
sufferings, was now fast drawing to a close. In Octo- 
ber of the same year, 1615, he published the Second 
Part of his Don Quixote; and in its Dedication to the 
Count de Lemos, who had for some time favored him,” 
he alludes to his failing health, and intimates that he 
hardly looked for the continuance of life beyond a few 
months. His spirits, however, which had survived his 
suffermgs in the Levant, at Algiers, and in prisons at 


*131 


82 There can be little doubt, I think, 
that this was the case, if we compare 
the opinions expressed by the canon on 


Cervantes ; the most agreeable proof of 
which is to be found in the Dedication 
of the Second Part of Don Quixote. I 


the subject of the drama in the 48th 
chapter of the First Part of Don Quix- 
ote, 1605, and the opinions in the 
opening of the second jornada of the 
**Rufian Dichoso,” 1615. 

83 It has been generally conceded 
that the Count de Lemos and the Arch- 
bishop of Toledo favored and assisted 


am afraid, however, that their favor 
was a little too much in the nature of 
alms. Indeed, it is called Zimosna the 
only time it is known to be mentioned 
by any contemporary of Cervantes. See 
Salas Barbadillo, in the Dedication of 
the ‘‘ Estafeta del Dios Momo,” Ma- 
drid, 1627, 12mo. 


Cuar. XI.] SICKNESS AND DEATH OF CERVANTES. 155 
home, and which, as he approached his seventieth 
year, had been sufficient to produce a work like the 
Second Part of Don Quixote, did not forsake him, 
now that his strength was wasting away under the 
influence of disease and old age. On the contrary, 
with unabated vivacity he urged forward his romance 
of “Persiles and Sigismunda”; anxious only that life 
enough should be allowed him to finish it, as the last 
offermg of his gratitude to his generous patron. In 
the spring he went to Esquivias, where was the little 
estate he had received with his wife, and after his re- 
turn wrote a Preface to his unpublished romance, full 
of a delightful and simple humor, in which he tells a 
pleasant story of being overtaken in his ride back to 
Madrid by a medical student, who gave him much 
good advice about the dropsy, under which he was 
suffering ; to which he replied that his pulse had al- 
ready warned him that he was not to live beyond the 
next Sunday. “ And so,” says he, at the conclusion of 
this remarkable Preface, “ farewell to jesting, farewell 
my merry humors, farewell my gay friends, for I feel 
that I am dying, and have no desire but soon to see 
you happy in the other life.” 

*In this temper he prepared to meet death, * 132 
as many Catholics of strong religious impres- 
sions were accustomed to do at that time; and, on 
the 2d of April, entered the order of Franciscan friars, 
whose habit he had assumed three years before at Al- 
eala. Still, however, his feelings as an author, his 


#4 “‘ Who, to be sure of Paradise, 

Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, 

Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised.” 

Alfonso Valdés —if he be the author 

of the remarkable ‘‘ Dialogo de Mercurio 
y Caron,” about 1530 (see ante, Chap. 
Y., note 42) — had notions on this sub- 
ject such as Milton had, and much 
wiser notions than those of Cervantes ; 


for he makes his religious married man 
tell Charon that on his death-bed, when 
his friends asked him to put on the 
habit of St. Francis, he answered them : 
‘Hermanos, ya sabeis quanto me guarde 
siempre de engafiar a ninguno; para que 
quereis que me ponga ahora en engafiar 
a Dios?” Ed. 1850, p. 172. 


156 SICKNESS AND DEATH OF CERVANTES. [Peniop II. 


vivacity, and his personal gratitude did not desert 
him. On the 18th of April he received the extreme 
unction, and the next day wrote a Dedication of his 
“Persiles and Sigismunda” to the Count de Lemos, 
marked, to an extraordinary degree, with his natural 
humor, and with the solemn thoughts that became his 
situation.” The last known act of his life, therefore, 
shows that he still possessed his faculties in perfect 
serenity, and four days afterwards, on the 23d of 
April, 1616, he died, at the age of sixty-eight.* He 
was buried, as he probably had desired, in the convent 
of the Nuns of the Trinity ; but a few years afterwards 
this convent was removed to another part of the city, 
and what became of the ashes of the greatest genius 


of his country is, from that time, wholly unknown.” 


8 The only case I recollect at all 
parallel is that of the graceful Dedica- 
tion of Addison’s works to his friend 
and successor in office, Secretary Craggs, 
which is dated June 4, 1719; thirteen 
days before his death. But the Dedi- 
cation of Cervantes is much more cor- 
dial and spirited. 

36 Bowle says (Anotaciones 4 Don 
Quixote, Salisbury, 1781, 4to, Prdlogo 
ix, note) that Cervantes died on the 
same day with Shakespeare; but this 
is a mistake, the calendar not having 


then been altered in England, and there 


being, therefore, a difference between 
that and the Spanish calendar of ten 
days. 

. 87 Nor was any monument raised to 
Cervantes, in Spain, until 1835, when 
a bronze statue of him larger than life, 
cast at Rome by Sola of Barcelona, was 
placed in the Plaza del Estamento at 
Madrid. (See El Artista, Madrid, 1834, 
1835, Tom. I. p. 205; Tom. II. p. 12; 
and Semanario Pintoresco, 1836, p. 249.) 
Of the head of this statue, I possess a 
beautiful copy, in marble, made by 
Sola himself in 1855, for my friend Don 
Guillermo Picard, a Spaniard of no com- 
mon intellectual tastes and accomplish- 
ments, who presented it to me in 1859. 
Before 1835 I believe there was nothing 
that approached nearer to a monument 


in honor of Cervantes throughout the 
world than an ordinary medal of him, 
struck in 1818, at Paris, as one of a 
large series which would have been ab- 
surdly incomplete without it; and a 
small medallion or bust, that was placed 
in 1834, at the expense of an individual, 
over the door of the house in the Calle 
de los Francos, where he died. 

As to the true likeness of Cervantes 
— vera effigies —there has been a dis- 
cussion going on for nearly a hundred 
years, which is not likely soon to end. 
The portrait commonly current and ac- 
cepted derives its main authority from 
an old picture belonging to the Royal 
Spanish Academy, who prefixed an en- 
graving of it to their magnificent edi- 
tion of the Don Quixote in 1780 and 
gave their reasons for it in the Prologo 
to that work (Sect. xvii-xx). Navar- 
rete, who went with his accustomed 
exactness and fidelity over the whole 
ground again, in his Life of Cervantes, 
(Madrid, 1819, pp. 196, 5386 - 539,) was 
satisfied with this decision of the Acad- 
emy. Several other portraits, however, 
have since been brought forward, but 
no one of them, I think, has been 
found, in the judgment of the curious, 
to rest on sufficient authority. The 
last of them, and the one which, from 
the discussions that accompany it, comes 


Cuap. XI] PORTRAITS 


with some pretension before the world, 
is one prefixed to a collection of ‘* Docu- 
mentos Nuevos para ilustrar la Vida de 
Cervantes,” published in 1864 at Seville 
by Don Jose Maria Asensio y Toledo. 
The facts in the case, as he gives them, 
are these : — 

In 1850, Don José read an anonymous 
manuscript, whose date he does not 
intimate, but which belonged to Don 
Rafael Monti of Seville, and which was 
entitled ‘‘ Relacion de Cosas de Sevilla 
de 159041640.” In this MS. he found 
a notice that, in one of six pictures 
painted by Francisco Pacheco and Alon- 
so Vazquez for the ‘‘ Casa Grande de la 
Merced,” there was a portrait of Cer- 
vantes with that of other persons who 
had been in Algiers, and that the pic- 
ture in question represented ‘‘los Pa- 
dres de la Redencion con cautivos.” 
In 1864 Don José thinks that he found 
this statement completely confirmed in 
a MS. on the ‘‘ Verdaderos Retratos de 
ilustres y memorables Varones por Fran- 
cisco Pacheco,” setting forth that he 
had painted a picture of Father Juan 
Bernal, an eminent ecclesiastic (see ante, 
p. 114, note) who had been in Africa. 
Don José then informs us that these 
six pictures are in the ‘‘ Museo Pro- 
vincial” of Seville, and that one of 
them, ‘‘ No. 19, San Pedro de Nolasco 
en uno de los pasos de su Vida,” is, as 
he believes, the one referred to, because 
he thinks that it sets forth the scene 
of an embarkation from Africa of Padres 
Redentores with ransomed captives, and 
that one of them, the barquero, or boat- 
man, with a boat-hook in his hand, is 
the figure of Cervantes and a true like- 
ness of him. Documentos, pp. i, ii, iv, 
x, xi, 68-82. 

Setting aside all minor difficulties and 
objections to this theory, of which there 
are several, there are two others that 
seem to me to be decisive. 1. There is 
no reason to suppose that this ‘‘ No. 
19” contains a likeness of Padre Ber- 
nal, who is not claimed to have been 
painted by Pacheco as part of this or of 
any other historical picture, but only 
as a portrait, — Pacheco’s phrase being, 
“Yo le retraté.” 2. There is no rea- 
son to suppose that any picture which 
might contain a portrait of Bernal would 
also contain a portrait of Cervantes, the 
two having never before been mentioned 


OF CERVANTES. 


157 


together. Now, as the failure of either 
of these postulates is fatal to the con- 
jecture of Don José, it does not seem 
needful to go further. 

Hartzenbusch, in a letter prefixed to 
the ‘‘Documentos,” (p. xvii,) thinks 
that the head of the barquero, and the 
head authorized by the Academy as 
that of Cervantes, may represent the 
same person at different periods of life, 
— pueden representar una persona, ec. ; 
and Don José (p. 87) seems to agree 
with Hartzenbusch. I do not, indeed, 
myself see the resemblance indicated 
between the two; but, if there be any, 
the barquero’s head would seem to coun- 
tenance the genuineness of that of the 
Academy, just so far as that of the 
barqucro is believed to represent Cer- 
vantes. It is admitted, however, that 
the handsome young boatman is very 
unlike the description of himself given 
by Cervantes in the Prologo to his No- 
velas, 1613; while, on the other hand, 
we cannot help agreeing with the cau- 
tious Navarrete, that the old picture 
of the Academy is “‘ conforme en todo” 
with this very minute description. 
Vida, p. 196. 

The great misfortune in the case is, 
that the portrait of Cervantes which he 
himself, in the Prologo to his Novelas, 
tells us was painted by ‘‘el famoso 
Juan de Jauregui,” is not known to 
exist, although it has been anxiously 
sought for. It seems to have been 
entirely satisfactory to Cervantes, and 
would have settled all questions. See 
post, Vol. III. p. 34. 

It may not be amiss to add here, that 
in the description of his own person, so 
often referred to in this note, Cervantes 
says that he was a stutterer or stam- 
merer, tartamudo ; and that the expres- 
sion of the mouth in the portrait of the 
Academy and in the statue of Sola 
seems to me to indicate this defect of 
utterance, just as it is indicated in the 
heads of Demosthenes that have come 
down to us from antiquity, and as it is 
indicated by the genius of Michael An- 
gelo in his well-known statue of Moses, 
(Visconti, Iconografia Greca, 8vo, Mi- 
lano, 1823, Tom. I. p. 335.) If I am 
right in this, it is a confirmation of the 
genuineness of the portrait sanctioned 
by the Academy. 


e133 


* CH As Pala ex Td 


CERVANTES.-—-HIS PERSILES AND SIGISMUNDA, AND ITS CHARACTER. — HIS 


DON 


QUIXOTE.— CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH IT WAS WRITTEN. — ITS 


PURPOSE AND GENERAL PLAN.— PART FIRST. — AVELLANEDA. — PART SEC- 
OND.— CHARACTER OF THE WHOLE.—CHARACTER OF CERVANTES. 


Six months after the death of Cervantes,! the 
license for publishing “ Persiles and Sigismunda” was 
granted to his widow, and in 1617 it was 


*134 printed. 


1 At the time of his death Cervantes 
seems to have had the following works 
more or less prepared for the press, 
namely: ‘‘Las Semanas del Jardin,” 
announced as early as 1613 ; — the Sec- 
ond Part of ‘‘ Galatea,” announced in 
1615 ;— the ‘‘ Bernardo,” mentioned in 
the Dedication of ‘‘ Persiles,” just be- 
fore he died ; — and several plays, re- 
ferred to in the Preface to those he 
published, and in the Appendix to the 
‘<Viage del Parnaso.” All these works 
are now probably lost. Others have 
been attributed to him. Of the ‘‘ Bu- 
scapié” I shall speak in the Appendix, 
and of two apocryphal chapters of Don 
Quixote in a note to this chapter. To 
these may be added a letter on a popu- 
lar festival, part of which is printed in 
the twentieth volume of the Biblioteca 
de Autores Espaitoles, 1851, p. xxvii. 

2 The first edition of Persiles y Sigis- 
munda was printed with the following 
title: ‘*‘Los Trabajos de Persiles y 
Sigismunda, Historia Setentrional, por 
M. de Cervantes Saavedra, dirigida,” 
etc., Madrid, 1617, 8vo, por Juan de 
la Cuesta ; and reprints of it appeared 
in Valencia, Pamplona, Barcelona, and 
Brussels, the same year. I have a copy 
of this first edition, and of the one 
printed at Pamplona the same year; 
but the most agreeable one is that of 
Madrid, 1802, 8vo, 2 tom. There is 
an English translation by M. L., pub- 
lished 1619, which I have never seen ; 


His purpose *seems to have been 


but from which I doubt not Fletcher 
borrowed the materials for that part 
of the Persiles which he has used, or 
rather abused, in his ‘‘ Custom of the 
Country,” acted as early as 1628, but 
not printed till 1647 ; the very names 
of the personages being sometimes the 
same. See Persiles, Book I. c. 12 and 
13; and compare Book II. c. 4 with 
the English play, Act IV. scene 3, and 
Book III. c. 6, etc. with Act II. scene 
4, etc. Sometimes we have almost 
literal translations, like the follow- 
ing :— 

‘*Sois Castellano?”” me preguntd en 
su lengua Portuguesa. ‘‘ No, Sefiora,” 
le respondi yo, ‘‘sino forastero, y bien 
lejos de esta tierra.” ‘‘ Pues aunque 
fuerades mil veces Castellano,” replicd 
ella, ‘‘os librara yo, si pudiera, y os 
libraré si puedo ; subid por cima deste 
lecho, y éntraos debaxo de este tapiz, y 
éntraos en un hueco que aqui hallareis, 
y no os movais, que si la justicia vi- 
niere, me tendra respeto, y creera lo 
que yo quisiere decirles.”  Persiles, 
Lib. III. cap. 6. 

In Fletcher we have it as follows :— 

Guiomar. Are you a Castilian? 

Rutilio. No, Madam: Italy claims my birth. 

Gui. Task not 
With purpose to betray you. If you were 
Ten thousand times a Spaniard, the nation 
We Portugals most hate, I yet would save you, 
If it lay in my power. Lift up these hangings; 
Behind my bed’s head there ’s a hollow place, 


Into which enter. 
[Rutilio retires behind the bed. 


Cuap. XH.] THE PERSILES AND SIGISMUNDA. 159 


to write a serious romance, which should be to this 
species of composition what the Don Quixote is to 
comic romance. So much, at least, may be inferred 
from the manner in which it is spoken of by himself 
and by his friends. For in the Dedication of the Sec- 
ond Part of Don Quixote he says, “It will be either 
the worst or the best book of amusement in the lan- 
guage’; adding, that his friends thought it admi- 
rable ; and Valdivielso,’ after his death, said he had 
equalled or surpassed in it all his former efforts. 

But serious romantic fiction, which is peculiarly the 
offspring of modern civilization, was not yet far 
enough developed to enable one like Cervantes to 
obtain a high degree of success in it, especially as the 
natural bent of his genius was to humorous fiction. 
The imaginary travels of Lucian, three or four Greek 
romances, and the romances of chivalry, were all he 
had to guide him; for anything approaching nearer 
to the proper modern novel than some of his own 
tales had not yet been imagined. Perhaps his first 
impulse was to write a romance of chivalry, modified 
by the spirit of the age, and free from the absurdities 
which abound in the romances that had been written 
before his time.* But if he had such a thought, the 


So;— but from this stir not. 
If the officers come, as you expect they will do, 
I know they owe such reverence to my lodgings, 
That they will easily give credit to me 
And search no further. 
Act IT. Se. 4 


Other parallel passages might be 
cited ; but it should not be forgotten, 
that there is one striking difference be- 
tween the two; for that, whereas the 
Persiles is a book of great purity of 
thought and feeling, ‘‘The Custom of 
the Country” is one of the most inde- 
cent plays in the language ; so inde- 
cent, indeed, that Dryden rather boldly 
says it is worse in this particular than 
all his own plays put together. Dry- 
den’s Works, Scott’s ed., London, 1808,, 


8vo, Vol. XI. p. 239. The earliest 
translation I remember to have seen of 
the Persiles and Sigismunda is in French 
by Francois de Rosset, Paris, 1618 ; but 
the best is an anonymous one in the 
purest English, (London, 1854,) under- 
stood to be by Miss L. D. Stanley ; but 
in which a good many passages are 
omitted, ex. gr. Book III. Chaps. VI., 
VII., VIII., etc. I have also an Ital- 
ian one by Francesco Ella, printed at 
Venice, 1626. 

8 In the Aprobacion, dated Septem- 
ber 9, 1616, ed. 1802, Tom. I. p. vii. 

4 This may be fairly suspected from 
the beginning of the 48th chapter of 
the First Part of Don Quixote. 


160 THE PERSILES AND SIGISMUNDA. 


[PERiop II. 


success of his own Don Quixote almost necessarily 
prevented him from attempting to put it in execution. 
He therefore looked rather to the Greek romances, 
and, as far as he used any model, took the “ Theage- 

nes and Chariclea” of Heliodorus.” He calls 
*135 what he produced “A * Northern Romance,” 

and makes its principal story consist. of the 
sufferings of Persiles and Sigismunda,— the first the 
son of a king of Iceland; the second the daughter of 
a king of Friesland, — laying the scene of one half 
of his fiction in the North of Europe, and that of the 
other half in the South. He has some faint ideas of 
the sea-kings and pirates of the Northern Ocean, but 
very little of the geography of the countries that pro- 
duced them; and as for his savage men and frozen 
islands, and the wild and strange adventures he ima- 
gines to have passed among them, nothing can be 
more fantastic and incredible. 

In Portugal, Spain, and Italy, through which his 
hero and heroine — disguised as they are from first to 
last under the names of Periandro and Auristela — 
make a pilgrimage to Rome, we get rid of most of the 
extravagances which deform the earlier portion of the 
romance. The whole, however, consists of a labyrinth 
of tales, showing, indeed, an imagination quite aston- 





5 Once he intimates that it isatrans- soon appeared in Spain. The first is 


lation, but does not say from what lan- 
guage, (See opening of Book II.) An 
acute and elegant critic of our own 
time says, ‘‘ Des naufrages, des déserts, 
des descentes par mer, et des ravisse- 
ments, c’est done toujours plus ou 
moins l’ancien roman d’Héliodore.” 
(Sainte Beuve, Critiques, Paris, 1839, 
8vo, Tom. IV. p. 173.) These words 
describe more than half of the Persiles 
and Sigismunda. Two imitations of 
the Persiles, or, at any rate, two imi- 
tations of the Greek romance which 
was the chief model of the Persiles, 


the ‘‘ Historia de Hipolito y Aminta” 
of Francisco de Quintana, (Madrid, 
1627, 4to,) divided into eight books, 
with a good deal of poetry intermixed. 
The other is ‘‘ Eustorgio y Clorilene, 
Historia Moscovica,” by Enrique Sua- 
rez de Mendoza y Figueroa, (1629,) in 
thirteen books, with a hint of a con- 
tinuation ; but my copy was printed 
Caragoca, 1665, 4to. Both are writ- 
ten in bad taste, and have no value 
as fictions. The latter seems to have 
bee plainly suggested by the Per- 
siles. 


Cuar. XII.) 161 


THE DON QUIXOTE. 


ishing in an old man like Cervantes, already past his 
grand climacteric, —a man, too, who might be sup- 
posed to be broken down by sore calamities and in- 
curable disease; but it is a labyrinth from which we 
are glad to be extricated, and we feel relieved when 
the labors and trials of his Persiles and Sigismunda are 
over, and when, the obstacles to their love being re- 
moved, they are happily united.at Rome. No doubt, 
amidst the multitude of separate stories with which 
this wild work is crowded, several are graceful in them- 
selves, and others are interesting because they con- 
tain traces of Cervantes’s experience of life,° 
while, * through the whole, his style is more *136 
carefully finished, perhaps, than in any other 
of his works. But, after all, it is far from being what 
he and his friends fancied it was,—a model of this 
peculiar style of fiction, and the best of his efforts. 
This honor, if we may trust the uniform testimony 
of two centuries, belongs, beyond question, to his Don 
Quixote,— the work which, above all others, not 
merely of his own age, but of all modern times, bears 
most deeply the impression of the national character it 
represents, and has, therefore, in return, enjoyed a de- 
gree and extent of national favor never granted to any 
other.’ When Cervantes began to write it is wholly 


6 From the beginning of Book III., 
we find that the action of Persiles and 
Sigismunda is laid in the time of Philip 
Il. or Philip III., when there was a 
Spanish viceroy in Lisbon, and the 
travels of the hero and heroine in the 
South of Spain and Italy seem to be, 
in fact, Cervantes’s own recollections of 
the journey he made through the same 
countries in his youth ; while Chapters 
10 and 11 of Book III. show bitter 
traces of his Algerine captivity. His 
familiarity with Portugal, as seen in 
this work, should also be noticed. 
Frequently, indeed, as in almost every- 


VOL. II. ec 


thing else he wrote, we meet intima- 
tions and passages from his own life. 
Persiles and Sigismunda, after all, was 
the most immediately successful of any 
of the works of Cervantes. Eight edi- 
tions of it appeared in two years, and 
it was translated into Italian, French, 
and English, between 1618 and 1626. 

7 My own experience in Spain fully 
corroborates the suggestion of Inglis, in 
his very pleasant book, (Rambles in the 
Footsteps of Don Quixote, London, 1837, 
8vo, p. 26, ) that ‘‘no Spaniard is entirely 
ignorant of Cervantes.” At least, none 
I ever questioned on the subject — and 


162 WHY CERVANTES WROTE DON QUIXOTE. [Penton II. 


uncertain. For'twenty years preceding the appear- 
ance of the First Part he printed almost nothing ;° 
and the little we know of him during that long and 
dreary period of his life shows only how he obtained a 
hard subsistence for himself and his family by common 
business agencies, which, we have reason to suppose, 
were generally of trifling importance, and which, we 
are sure, were sometimes distressing in their conse- 
quences. The tradition, therefore, of his persecutions 
in La Mancha, and his own averment that the Don 
Quixote was begun in a prison, are all the hints we 
have received concerning the circumstances under 
which it was first imagined; and that such circum- 
stances should have tended to such a result is a strik- 

ing fact in the history, not only of Cervantes, 
*137 but of * the human mind, and shows how differ- 

ent was his temperament from that commonly 
found in men of genius. 

His purpose in writing the Don Quixote has some- 
times been enlarged by the ingenuity of a refined 
criticism, until it has been made to embrace the 
whole of the endless contrast between the poetical 
and the prosaic in our natures,— between heroism 
and generosity on one side, as if they were mere illu- 
sions, and a cold selfishness on the other, as if it were 
the truth and reality of life? But this is a meta- 
physical conclusion drawn from views of the work 


their number was great in the lower 
conditions of society—seemed to be 
entirely ignorant what sort of persons 
were Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. 

8 He felt this himself as a dreary in- 
terval in his life, for he says in his 
Prologo: ‘* Al cabo de tantos afios co- 
mo ha, que duermo en el silencio del 
olvido,” ete. In fact, from 1584 till 
1605 he had printed nothing except a 
few short poems of little value, and 


seems to have been wholly occupied in 
painful struggles to secure a subsist- 
ence. 

9 This idea is found partly developed 
by Bouterwek, (Geschichte der Poesie 
und Beredsamkeit, Gottingen, 1803, 
8vo, Tom. III. pp. 335 — 337,) and fully 
set forth and defended by Sismondi, 
with his accustomed eloquence.  Lit- 
térature du Midi de l'Europe, Paris, 
1813, 8vo, Tom. III. pp. 339-343. 


Cuar. XII.] WHY CERVANTES WROTE DON QUIXOTE. 163 
at once imperfect and exaggerated; contrary to the 
spirit of the age, which was not given to a satire so 
philosophical and generalizing, and contrary to the 
character of Cervantes himself, as we follow it from 
the time when he first became a soldier, through all 
his trials in Algiers, and down to the moment when 
his warm and trusting heart dictated the Dedication 
of “ Persiles and Sigismunda” to the Count de Lemos. 
His whole spirit, indeed, seems rather to have been 
filled with a cheerful confidence in human virtue, and 
his whole bearing in life seems to have been a con- 
tradiction to that discouraging and saddening scorn 
for whatever is elevated and generous, which such 
an interpretation of the Don Quixote necessarily 
implies.” 

Nor does he himself permit us to give to his ro- 
mance any such secret meaning; for, at the very 
beginning of the work, he announces it to be his 
sole purpose to break down the vogue and authority 
of books of chivalry, and, at the end of the whole, 
he declares anew, in his own person, that “he had 
had no other desire than to render abhorred of men the 
false and absurd stories contained in books of 
chivalry” ;" exulting *in his success, as an * 138 


10 Many other interpretations have 
been given to the Don Quixote. One 
of the most absurd is that of Daniel 
De Foe, who declares it to be ‘fan em- 
blematic history of, and a just satire 
upon, the Duke de Medina Sidonia, a 
person very remarkable at that time in 
Spain.” (Wilson’s Life of De Foe, 
London, 1830, 8vo, Vol. III. p. 437, 
note.) The ‘‘ Buscapié’’ —if there ever 
was such a publication — pretended that 
it set forth ‘‘some of the undertakings 
and gallantries of the Emperor Charles 
Vv.” See Appendix (D). 

11 In the Prdlogo to the First Part, 
he says, ‘‘ Vo mira dé mas que 4 deshacer 
la autoridad y cabida, que en el mundo 


y en el vulgo tienen los libros de Cabal- 
lerias”’ ; and he ends the Second Part, 
ten years afterwards, with these re- 
markable words : ‘‘No ha sido otro mt 
deseo, que poner en aborrecimiento de 
los hombres las fingidas y disparatadas 
historias de los libros de Caballertias, 
que por las de mi verdadero Don Quix- 
ote van ya tropezando, y han de caer 
del todo sin duda alguna. Vale.” It 
seems really hard that a great man’s 
word of honor should thus be called in 
question by the spirit of an over-refined 
criticism, two centuries after his death. 
D. Vicente Salva has partly, but not 
wholly, avoided this difficulty in an in- 
genious and pleasant essay on the ques- 


164 WHY CERVANTES WROTE DON QUIXOTE. [Penton II. 


achievement of no small moment. And such, in 
fact, it was, for we have abundant proof that the 
fanaticism for these romances was so great in Spain, 
during the sixteenth century, as to have become 
matter of alarm to the more judicious. Many of 
the distinguished contemporary authors speak of its 
mischiefs, and among the rest Fernandez de Oviedo, the 
venerable Luis de Granada, Luis de Leon, Luis Vives, 
the great scholar, and Malon de Chaide, who wrote 
the eloquent “Conversion of Mary Magdalen.” ” 
Guevara, the learned and fortunate courtier of 
Charles the Fifth, declares that “men did read 
nothing in his time but such shameful books as 
‘Amadis de Gaula,’ ‘Tristan, ‘Primaleon,’ and the 
like”; the acute author of “The Dialogue on 
Languages” says that “the ten years he passed at 
court he wasted in studying ‘ Florisando, ‘ Lisuarte,’ 
‘The Knight of the Cross, and other such books, 


more than he can name”; 


tion, ‘‘ Whether the Don Quixote has 
yet been judged according to its merits” ; 
—in which he maintains that Cervan- 
tes did not intend to satirize the sub- 
stance and essence of books of chivalry, 
but only to purge away their absurdi- 
ties and improbabilities ; and that, after 
all, he has given us substantially only 
another romance of the same class, 
which has ruined the fortunes of all its 
predecessors by being itself immensely 
in advance of them all. Ochoa, Apun- 
tes para una Biblioteca, Paris, 1842, 
8vo, Tom. II. pp. 723-740. 

12 See Oviedo, Hist. General y Natu- 
ral de las Indias, Ed. Rios, Tom. I. 
1851, p. xxix. Simbolo de la Fé, Parte 
TI. cap. 17, near the end. J. P. For- 
ner, Reflexiones, etc., 1786, pp. 32-35. 
Conversion de la Magdalena, 1592, Pro- 
logo al Letor. All five are strong in 
their censures; and to them may be 
added Juan Sanchez Valdes de la Plata, 
who in the Prdélogo to his ‘* Chronica 
del Hombre” (folio, 1595),—a book 
packed full of crude learning on the 
destiny of man, his powers and his in- 


>> and from different 


ventions, — says, that “young men and 
girls, and even those of ripe age and 
estate, do waste their time in reading 
books which with truth may be called 
sermon-books of Satan, full of debili- 
tating vanities and blazonries of the 
knighthoods of the Amadises and Es- 
plandians, with the rest of their crew, 
from which neither profit nor doctrine 
can be gathered, but suéh as makes 
their thoughts the abode of lies and 
false fancies, which is a thing the Devil 
doth much covet.” It should be no- 
ticed, however, that Nicolas Antonio 
at the end of the seventeenth century 
was by no means willing to give up books 
of chivalry. See Preface to Bibliotheca 
Nova, § 27. 

13 «*Vemos, que ya no se ocupan los 
hombres sino en leer libros que es af- 
frenta nombrarlos, como son Amadis de 
Gaula, Tristan de Leonis, Primaleon,” 
etc. Argument to the Aviso de Priva- 
dos, Obras de Ant. de Guevara, Valla- 
dolid, 1545, folio, f. clviii, b. 

14 The passage is too long to be con- 
veniently cited, but it is very severe. 


Cnap. XI] WHY CERVANTES WROTE DON QUIXOTE. 165 


sources we *know, what, indeed, we may * 139 
gather from Cervantes himself, that many 

who read these fictions took them for true _histo- 
ries.” At last they were deemed so noxious, that, 
in 1555, they were prohibited by law from being 
printed or sold in the American colonies, and in 
1555 the same prohibition, and even the burning 
of all copies of them extant in Spain itself, was 
earnestly asked for by the Cortes.® The evil, in 
fact, had become formidable, and the wise began to 
see it. 

To destroy a passion that had struck its roots so 
deeply in the character of all classes of men,” to break 
up the only reading which at that time could be con- 
sidered widely popular and fashionable,” was certainly 


See Mayans y Siscar, Origenes, Tom. 
Tis pp. 157, 158. 

15 See ante, Vol. I. pp. 223-226. 
But, besides what is said there, Fran- 
cisco de Portugal, who died in 16382, 
tells us in his ‘‘ Arte de Galanteria,”’ 
(Lisboa, 1670, 4to, p. 96,) that Simon 
de Silveira (I suppose the Portuguese 
poet who lived about 1500, Barbosa, 
Tom. III. p. 722) once swore upon 
the Evangelists, that he believed the 
whole of the Amadis to be true his- 
tory. 

16 Clemencin, in the Preface to his 
edition of Don Quixote, Tom. I. pp. 
xi-xvi, cites many other proofs of. the 
passion for books of chivalry at that 
period in Spain ; adding a reference to 
the ‘‘ Recopilacion de Leyes de las In- 
dias,” Lib. I. Tit. 24, Ley 4, for the 
law of 1553, and printing at length the 
very curious petition of the Cortes of 
1555, which I have not seen anywhere 
else, except in the official publication 
of the ‘‘Capitulos y Leyes,” (Vallado- 
lid, 1558, fol. lv, b,) and which would 
probably have produced the law it de- 
manded, if the abdication of the Em- 
peror, the same year, had not prevented 
all action upon the matter. 

1 Allusions to the fanaticism of the 
lower classes on the subject of books 
of chivalry are happily introduced into 


Don Quixote, Parte I. c.°32, and in 
other places. It extended, too, to those 
better bred and informed. Francisco 
de Portugal, in the ‘‘ Arte de Galante- 
ria,” cited in a preceding note, and 
written before 1632, tells the following 
anecdote: ‘‘A knight came home one 
day from the chase and found his wife 
and daughters and their women crying. 
Surprised and grieved, he asked them if 
any child or relation were dead. ‘No,’ 
they answered, suffocated with tears. 
‘Why, then, do you weep so?’ he re- 
joined, still more amazed. ‘Sir,’ they 
replied, ‘Amadis is dead.’ They had 
read so far.” p. 96. 

18 Cervantes himself, as his Don 
Quixote amply proves, must, at some 
period of his life, have been a devoted 
reader of the romances of chivalry. 
How minute and exact his knowledge 
of them was may be seen, among other 
passages, from one at the end of the 
twentieth chapter of Part First, where, 
speaking of Gasabal, the esquire of Ga- 
laor, he observes that his name is men- 
tioned but once in the history of Amadis 
of Gaul ; —a fact which the indefatiga- 
ble Mr. Bowle took the pains to verify, 
when reading that huge romance. See 
his ‘‘ Letter to Dr. Percy, on a New 
and Classical Edition of Don Quixote,” 
London, 1777, 4to, p. 25. 


166 FIRST PART OF THE DON QUIXOTE. [Penton II. 


a bold undertaking, and one that marks anything 
rather than a scornful or broken spirit, or a want of 
faith in what is most to be valued in our common 

nature. The great wonder is, that Cervantes 
*140 succeeded. But that he did, there is no * ques- 

tion. No book of chivalry was written after 
the appearance of Don Quixote, in 1605; and from the 
same date, even those already enjoying the greatest 
favor ceased, with one or two unimportant exceptions, 
to be reprinted;” so that, from that time to the 
present, they have been constantly disappearing, until 
they are now among the rarest of literary curiosities ; 
— a solitary instance of the power of genius to destroy, 
by a single well-timed blow, an entire department, and 
that, too, a flourishing and favored one, in the litera- 
ture of a great and proud nation. 

The general plan Cervantes adopted to accomplish 
this object, without, perhaps, foreseeing its whole 
course, and still less all its results, was simple as well 
as original. In 1605,” he published the First Part of 
Don Quixote, in which a country gentleman of La 
Mancha — full of genuine Castilian honor and enthu- 
siasm, gentle and dignified in his character, trusted by 


19 In the commentary of Faria y 
Sousa on the Lusiad, 1637, (Canto V1. 
fol. 188,) he says already that in conse- 
quence of the publication of the Don 
Quixote, books of chivalry ‘‘no son 
tan leidos”; and in a dedication to the 
. Madrid edition of that work, 1668, we 
are told that its previous repeated im- 
pressions ‘‘ han desterrado los libros de 
caballerias tan perjudiciales a las cos- 
tumbres.” Navarrete, pp. 500, 502. 
Clemencin, moreover, and finally in his 
Preface, 1833, notes ‘‘D. Policisne de 
Boecia,” printed in 1602, as the Jdast 
book of chivalry that was written in 
Spain, and adds, that, after 1605, ‘‘no 
se publicd de nuevo libro alguno de 
caballerias, y dejaron de reimprimirse 
los anteriores” (p. xxi). To this re- 


mark of Clemencin, however, there are 
exceptions. For instance, the ‘‘ Genea- 
logia de la Toledana Discreta, Primera 
Parte,” por Eugenio Martinez, a tale of 
chivalry in octave stanzas, not ill writ- 
ten, was reprinted in 1608; and ‘*‘ El 
Caballero del Febo,” and ‘‘ Claridiano,”’ 
his son, are extant in editions of 1617. 
The period of the passion for such books 
in Spain can be readily seen in the Bib- 
liographical Catalogue, and notices of 
them by Salva, in the Repertorio Amer- 


icano, (London, 1827, Tom. IV. pp. 


29-74,) and still better in the Cata- 
logue prefixed by Gayangos to Riva- 
deneyra’s Biblioteca, Tom. XL. 1857. 
It was eminently the sixteenth cen- 


‘ey 
2) See Appendix (E). 


Cuar. XII.] FIRST PART OF THE DON QUIXOTE. 167 


his friends, and loved by his dependants—§is repre- 
sented as so completely crazed by long reading the 
most famous books of chivalry, that he believes them 
to be true, and feels himself called on to become the 
impossible knight-errant they describe, — nay, actually 
goes forth into the world to defend the oppressed and 
avenge the injured, like the heroes of his romances. 

To complete his chivalrous equipment — which he 
had begun by fitting up for himself a suit of armor 
strange to his century — he took an esquire out of his 
neighborhood; a middle-aged peasant, ignorant and 
credulous to excess, but of great good-nature ; a glut- 
ton and a liar; selfish and gross, yet attached to his 
master; shrewd enough occasionally to see the 
folly of their position, but always *amusing, * 141 
and sometimes mischievous, in his interpreta- 
tions of it. These two sally forth from their native 
village in search of adventures, of which the excited 
imagination of the knight, turning windmills into 
giants, solitary inns into.castles, and galley-slaves into 
oppressed gentlemen, finds abundance, wherever he 
goes; while the esquire translates them all into the 
plain prose of truth with an admirable simplicity, quite 
unconscious of its own humor, and rendered the more 
striking by its contrast with the lofty and courteous 
dignity and magnificent illusions of the superior per- 
sonage. There could, of course, be but one consistent 
termination to adventures like these. The knight and 
his esquire suffer a series of ridiculous discomfitures, 
and are at last brought home, like madmen, to tHeir 
native village, where Cervantes leaves them, with an 
intimation that the story of their adventures is by no 
means ended. 

From this time we hear little of Cervantes and 


168 CERVANTES AND AVELLANEDA. (Perrop II, 


nothing of his hero, till eight years éfterwards, in 
July, 16138, when he wrote the Preface to his Tales, 
where he distinctly announces a Second Part of Don 
Quixote. But before this Second Part could be pub- 
lished, and, indeed, before it was finished, a person 
calling himself Alonso Fernandez de Avellaneda, who 
seems, from some provincialisms in his style, to have 
been an Aragonese, and who, from other internal 
evidence, was a Dominican monk, came out, in the 
summer of 1614, with what he impertinently called 
“The Second Volume of the Ingenious Knight, Don 
Quixote de la Mancha.” 7 

*Two things are remarkable in relation to 
this book. The first is, that, though it is 
hardly possible its author’s name should not have 
been known to many, and especially to Cervantes 
himself, still it is only by strong conjecture that it 
has been often assigned to Luis de Aliaga, the king’s 
confessor, a person whom, from his influence at court, 
it might not have been deemed expedient openly 
to attack; but sometimes also to Juan Blanco de 
Paz, a Dominican friar, who had been an enemy of 


* 142 


Cervantes in Algiers. 


21 Cervantes reproaches Avellaneda 
with being an Aragonese, because he 
sometimes omits the article where a 
Castilian would insert it. (Don Quix- 
ote, Parte IJ. c. 59.) The rest of the 
discussion about him is found in Pelli- 
cer, Vida, pp. clvi-—clxv; in Navar- 
rete, Vida, pp. 144-151; in Clemen- 
cin’s Don Quixote, Parte II. c. 59, 
notes ; and in Adolfo de Castro’s ‘‘ Con- 
de Buque de Olivares,” Cadiz, 1846, 
8vo, pp. 11, etc. This Avellaneda, 
whoever he was, called his book ‘‘ Se- 
gundo Tomo del Ingenioso Hidalgo Don 
(Quixote de la Mancha,” etc., (Tarrago- 
na, 1614, 12mo,) and printed it so that 
it matches very well with the Valencian 
edition, 1605, of the First Part of the 
genuine Don Quixote ; — both of which 


The second is, that the author 


T have. There are editions of it, Ma- 
drid, 1732, 1805, and 1851; and a 
translation by Le Sage, 1704, in which 
—after his manner of translating — he 
alters and enlarges the original work 
with little ceremony or good faith. 

It may be worth while to note here, 
that, when Pope, in his ‘‘ Essay on 
Criticism,” (267, etc., beginning, ‘‘Once 
on a time La Mancha’s knight, they 
say,”) tells a story about Don Quixote, 
he refers, not to the work of Cervantes, 
but to that of Avellaneda, and of Avel- 
laneda in the rifacimento of Le Sage, 
Liv. III. chap. 29. Persons familiar 
with Cervantes are often disappointed 
that they do not recollect it, thinking 
that the reference must be to his Don 
Quixote. j 


Cuap. XII.] CERVANTES AND AVELLANEDA. 169 


seems to have had hints of the plan Cervantes was 
pursuing in his Second Part, then unfinished, and to 
have used them in an unworthy manner, especially 
in making Don Alvaro Tarfé play substantially the 
same part that is played by the Duke and Duchess 
towards Don Quixote, and in carrying the knight 
through an adventure at an inn with play-actors 
rehearsing one of Lope de Vega’s dramas, almost 
exactly like the adventure with the puppet-show 
man so admirably imagined by Cervantes.” 

But this is all that can interest us about the book, 
which, if not without merit in some respects, is gen- 
erally low and dull, and would now be forgotten, if 
it were not connected with the fame of Don Quixote. 
In its Preface, Cervantes is treated with coarse indig- 
nity, his age, his suffermgs, and even his honorable 
wounds being sneered at;* and in the body of the 
book, the character of Don Quixote, who appears as 
a vulgar madman, fancying himself to be Achilles, 
or any other character that happened to occur to the 
author,“ is so completely without dignity or 
consistency, * that it is clear the writer did *148 
not possess the power of comprehending the 


22 Avellaneda, c. 26. Thereisamuch 
bettertranslation than LeSage’s, by Ger- 
mond de Lavigne, (Paris, 1853, 8vo,) 
with an acute preface and notes, partly 
intended to rehabilitate Avellaneda. 

Fr. Luis de Aliaga was, at one time, 
Inquisitor-General, and a person of great 
political consideration ; but he resigned 
his place or was disgraced in the reign 
of Philip IV., and died in exile shortly 
afterwards, December 3, 1626. He fig- 
ures in Quevedo’s ‘‘Grandes Anales de 
Quince Dias.” Ample notices of him 
may be found in the Revista de Ciencias, 
etc., Sevilla, 1856, Tom. III. pp. 6, 74, 
etc. Seealso Latassa, Bib. Nov., III. 376. 

#3 «*Tiene mas lengua que manos,” 
says Avellaneda, coarsely. 


24 Chapter 8;—just as he makes 
Don Quixote fancy a poor peasant in 
his melon-garden to be Orlando Furioso 
(c. 6);—a little village to be Rome 
(c. 7);—and its decent priest alter- 
nately Lirgando and the Archbishop 
Turpin. Perhaps the most obvious 
comparison, and the fairest that can 
be made, between the two Don Quix- 
otes is in the story of the goats, told 
by Sancho in the twentieth chapter of 
the First Part in Cervantes, and the 
story of the geese, by Sancho in Avel- 
laneda’s twenty-first chapter, because 
the latter professes to improve upon 
the former. The failure to do so, how- 
ever, is obvious enough. 


L70 CERVANTES AND AVELLANEDA. _ [Pzntop II. 
genius he at once basely libelled and meanly at- 
tempted to supplant. The best parts of the work 
are those in which Sancho is introduced; the worst 
are its indecent stories and the adventures of Bar- 
bara, who is a sort of brutal caricature of the grace- 
ful Dorothea, and whom the knight mistakes for 
Queen Zenobia. But it is almost always weari- 
some, and comes to a poor conclusion by the con- 
finement of Don Quixote in a madhouse.”* 

Cervantes evidently did not receive this affront- 
ing production until he was far advanced in the 
composition of his Second Part; but in the fifty- 
ninth chapter, written’ apparently when it first 
reached him, he breaks out upon it, and from that 
moment never ceases to persecute it, In every form 
of ingenious torture, until, with the seventy-fourth, 
he brings his own work to its conclusion. Even 
Sancho, with his accustomed humor and simplicity, 
is let loose upon the unhappy Aragonese; for, hay- 
ing understood from a chance traveller, who first 
brings the book to their knowledge, that his wife is 
called in it Mary Gutierrez, instead of Teresa Pan- 
Za, — 

«“¢A pretty sort of a history-writer, cried Sancho, 
‘and a deal must he know of our affairs, if he calls 
Teresa Panza, my wife, Mary Gutierrez. Take the 
book again, Sir, and see if I am put into it, and if 
he has changed my name, too.’ ‘By what I hear 
you say, my friend, replied the stranger, ‘you are, no 


doubt, Sancho Panza, the 


25 The whole story of Barbara, be- 
ginning with Chapter 22, and going 
nearly through the remainder of the 
work, is miserably coarse and dull. 

26 In 1824, a curious attempt was 
made, probably by some ingenious Ger- 


esquire of Don Quixote.’ 


man, to add two chapters more to Don 
Quixote, as if they had been suppressed 
when the Second Part was published. 
But they were not thought worth print- 
ing by the Spanish Academy. See Don 
Quixote, ed. Clemencin, Tom. V1. p. 296. 





Cnar. XII.] CERVANTES AND AVELLANEDA. 171 


‘To be sure I am, *answered Sancho, ‘and *144 
proud of it too. ‘Then, in truth, said the 
gentleman, ‘this new author does not treat you with 
the propriety shown in your own person; he makes 
you a glutton and a fool; not at all amusing, and 
quite another thing from the Sancho described in 
the first part of your master’s history.’ ‘Well, 
Heaven forgive him!’ said Sancho: ‘but I think he 
might have left me in my corner, without troubling 
himself about me; for, Let him play that knows the 
way; and Saint Peter at Rome is well off at home.’”™ 
Stimulated by the appearance of this rival work, 
as well as offended with its personalities, Cervantes 
urged forward his own, and, if we may judge by its 
somewhat hurried air, brought it to a conclusion 
sooner than he had intended® At any rate, as 
early as February, 1615, it was finished, and was 
published in the following autumn; after which we 
hear nothing more of Avellaneda, though he had in- 
timated his purpose to exhibit Don Quixote in an- 
other series of adventures at Avila, Valladolid, and 
Salamanca.” This, indeed, Cervantes took some pains 
to prevent; for—pbesides a little changing his plan, 
and avoiding the jousts at Saragossa, because Avel- 
laneda had carried his hero there*’—he finally re- 
stores Don Quixote, through a severe illness, to his 
right mind, and makes him renounce all the follies 
of knight-errantry, and die, like a peaceful Christian, 
in his own bed;—thus cutting off the possibility of 
another continuation with the pretensions of the first. 
This latter half of Don Quixote is a contradiction of 


27 Parte II. c. 59. of his being at Saragossa, he exclaims, 

8 See Appendix (E). ‘* Por el mismo caso, no pondré los pies 

2 At the end of Cap. 36. en Zaragoza, y asi sacaré a la plaza del 

89 When Don Quixote understands mundo la mentira dese historiador mo- 
that Avellaneda has given an account derno.” Parte II. c. 59. 


172 SECOND PART OF THE DON QUIXOTE. [Pzriop II. 
the proverb Cervantes cites in it, — that second parts 
were never yet good for much.” It is, in fact, better 
than the first. It shows more freedom and vigor; 
and if the caricature is sometimes pushed to the 

very verge of what is permitted, the inven- 
*145 tion, the style of * thought, and, indeed, the 

materials throughout, are richer and the finish 
is more exact. The character of Sanson Carrasco, 
for instance,’ is a very happy, though somewhat 
bold, addition to the original persons of the drama; 
and the adventures at the castle of the Duke and 
Duchess, where Don Quixote is fooled to the top of 
his bent; the managements of Sancho as governor 
of his island; the visions and dreams of the cave 
of Montesinos; the scenes with Roque Guinart, the 
freebooter, and with Gines de Passamonte, the galley- 
slave and puppet-show man; together with the mock- 
heroic hospitalities of Don Antonio Moreno at Barce- 
lona, and the final defeat of the knight there, are 
all admirable. In truth, everything in this Second 
Part, especially its general outline and tone, shows 
that time and a degree of success he had not before 
known had ripened and perfected the strong manly 
sense and sure insight mto human nature which are 
visible in nearly all his works, and which here be- 
come a part, as it were, of his peculiar genius, whose 
foundations had been laid, dark and deep, amidst the 
trials and sufferings of his various life. 


81 Tt isone of the mischievous remarks 
of the Bachelor Samson Carrasco. Parte 
1h ee 

82 Don Quixote, Parte II. c. 4. The 
style of both parts of the genuine Don 
Quixote is, as might be anticipated, 
free, fresh, and careless ; — genial, like 
the author’s character, full of idiomatic 
beauties, and by no means without 


blemishes. Garcés, in his ‘‘ Fuerza y 
Vigor de la Lengua Castellana,” Tom. 
II. Prdlogo, as well as throughout that 
excellent work, has given it, perhaps, 
more uniform praise than it deserves ; 
— while Clemencin, in his notes, is very 
rigorous and unpardoning to its occa- 
sional defects. 


(3) 


Cuar. XII.] SECOND PART OF THE DON QUIXOTE. Pea 


But throughout both parts, Cervantes shows the 
impulses and instincts of an original power with most 
distinctness in his development of the characters of 
Don Quixote and Sancho, in whose fortunate contrast 
and opposition is hidden the full spirit of his peculiar 
humor, and no small part of what is most effective in 
the entire fiction. They are his prominent personages. 
He delights, therefore, to have them as much as possi- 
ble in the front of his scene. They grow visibly upon 
his favor as he advances, and the fondness of his liking 
for them makes him constantly produce them in lights 
and relations as little foreseen by himself as they are 
by his readers. The knight, who seems to have 
been * originally intended for a parody of the *146 
Amadis, becomes gradually a detached, sepa- 
rate, and wholly independent personage, into whom is 
infused so much of a generous and elevated nature, 
such gentleness and delicacy, such a pure sense of 
honor, and such a warm love for whatever is noble and 
good, that we feel almost the same attachment to him 
that the barber and the curate did, and are almost as 
ready as his family was to mourn over his death.” 

The case of Sancho is again very similar, and per- 
haps in some respects stronger. At first, he is intro- 
duced as the opposite of Don Quixote, and used merely 
to bring out his master’s peculiarities in a more strik- 
ing relief. It is not until we have gone through 
nearly half of the First Part that he utters one of 
those proverbs which form afterwards the staple of his 
conversation and humor ;*™ and it is not till the open- 


83 Wordsworth, in his ‘‘ Prelude,” And thought that, in the blind and awful lair 
Book V., says of Don Quixote, very Of such a madness, reason did lie couched. 
strikingly :— 84 In 1626, Quevedo, in his ‘‘ Cuento 

r ” v4 - 
Nor have I pitied him, but rather felt de Cuentos,” ridiculed the free use of 
Reverence was due to a being thus employed ; proverbs, not, however, I think, direct- 


174. SECOND PART OF THE DON QUIXOTE. [Penton II. 


ing of the Second Part, and, indeed, not till he comes 
forth, in all his mingled shrewdness and credulity, as 
governor of Barataria, that his character is quite devel- 
oped and completed to the full measure of its grotesque, 
yet congruous, proportions. 

Cervantes, in truth, came at last to love these crea- 
tions of his marvellous power, as if they were real, 
familiar personages, and to speak of them and treat 
them with an earnestness and interest that tend much 
to the illusion of his readers. Both Don Quixote and 
Sancho are thus brought before us like such living 
realities, that, at this moment, the figures of the crazed, 
gaunt, dignified knight and of his round, selfish, and 
most amusing esquire dwell bodied forth in the imagi- 
nations of more, among all conditions of men through- 

out Christendom, than any other of the crea- 
*147 tions *of human talent. The greatest of the 

great poets — Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Mil- 
ton—have no doubt risen to loftier heights, and 
placed themselves in more imposing relations with the 
noblest attributes of our nature; but Cervantes — 
always writing under the unchecked impulse of his own 
genius, and instinctively concentrating in his fiction 
whatever was peculiar to the character of his nation 
— has shown himself of kindred to all times and all 
lands; to the humblest degrees of cultivation as well 
as to the highest; and has thus, beyond all other 
writers, received in return a tribute of sympathy and 
admiration from the universal spirit of humanity.” 


ing his satire against the Don Quixote, 
but rather against the absurd fashion 
of his time, just as Cervantes did. A 
rude answer to it, — ‘‘ Venganza de la 
Lengua Castellana,’ — attributed to Fr. 
Luis de Aliaga, and first printed, I be- 
lieve, in the same year, may be found in 
the Seminario Erudito, Tom VI. p. 264. 


85 I mean by this, that I think thou- 
sands of persons, the world over, have 
notions of Don Quixote and his esquire, 
and talk about ‘‘Quixotism,” ‘‘mis- 
chievous Sancho,” ete., who yet never 
have read the romance of Cervantes, 
nor even know what itis. A different 
popular effect, and one worthy the days 


Cuar. XIl.] DEFECTS OF THE DON QUIXOTE. 175 


It is not easy to believe, that, when he had finished 
such a work, he was insensible to what he had done. 
Indeed, there are passages in the Don Quixote itself 
which prove a consciousness of his own genius, its aspi- 
rations, and its power.** And yet there are, on the 
other hand, carelessnesses, blemishes, and contradic- 
tions scattered through it, which seem to show him to 
have been almost indifferent to contemporary success 
or posthumous fame. His plan, which he seems to 
have modified more than once while engaged 
*in the composition of the work, is loose and * 148 
disjomted ; his style, though full of the richest 
idiomatic beauties, abounds with inaccuracies; and the 
facts and incidents that make up his fiction are full of 
anachronisms, which Los Rios, Pellicer, and Eximeno 
have in vain endeavored to reconcile, either with the 
main current of the story itself, or with one another.” 


of Grecian enthusiasm, is noticed in 
Rocea’s ‘‘ Memoirs of the War of the 
French in Spain” (London, 1816, p 
110). He says, that when the body of 
French troops to which he was attached 
entered Toboso, — perfectly answering, 
he adds, the description of it by Cer- 
vantes, — they were so amused with the 
fancies about Dulcinea and Don Quix- 
ote, awakened by the place, that they 
were, at once, on easy terms with its 
inhabitants ; Cervantes becoming a 
bond of good-fellowship, which not 
only prevented the villagers from fly- 
ing, as they commonly did in similar 
cases, but led the soldiers to treat them 
ae their homes with unwonted respect. 
0, 


The great Emathian conqueror bid spare 

The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower 
Went to the ground: and the repeated air 

Of sad Electra’s poet had the power 

To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. 


% The concluding passages of the 
work, for instance, are in this tone; 
and this is the tone of his criticisms on 
Avellaneda. I do not count in the 
same sense the passage, in the Second 
Part, c. 16, in which Don Quixote is 
made to boast that thirty thousand 


copies had been printed of the First 
Part, and that thirty thousand thou- 
sands would follow ; for this is intended 
as the mere rhodomontade of the hero’s 
folly, or a jest at the pretensions set 
up for Aleman’s ‘‘Guzman de Alfa- 
rache”’ (see post, Chap. XXXIV., note 
4); but I confess I think Cervantes is 
somewhat in earnest when he makes 
Sancho say to his master, ‘‘I will lay 
a wager, that, before long, there will 
not be a two-penny eating-house, a 
hedge tavern, or a poor inn, or barber's 
shop, where the history of what we 
have done will not be painted and stuck 
up... Parte II. c. 71. 

87 Los Rios, in his ‘‘ Analisis,” pre- 
fixed to the edition of the Academy, 
1780, undertakes to defend Cervantes 
on the authority of the ancients, as if 
the Don Quixote were a poem, written 
in imitation of the Odyssey. Pellicer, 
in the fourth section of his ‘‘ Discurso 
Preliminar” to his edition of Don 
Quixote, 1797, follows much the same 
course ; besides which, at the end of 
the fifth volume, he gives what he 
gravely calls a ‘‘ Geographico-historical 
Description of the Travels of Don Quix- 
ote,” accompanied with a map; as if 


176 


DEFECTS OF THE DON QUIXOTE. 


[PEeRiop II. 


Thus, in the First Part, Don Quixote is generally 
represented as belonging to a remote age, and his 
history is supposed to have been written by an ancient 


Arabian author ;* 


while, in the examination 


*149 of his library, he is *plainly contemporary 
with Cervantes himself, and, after his defeats, is 


some of Cervantes’s geography were not 
impossible, and as if half his localities 
were to be found anywhere but in the 
imaginations of his readers. On the 
ground of such irregularities in his 
geography, and on other grounds equal- 
ly absurd, Nicholas Perez, a Valencian, 
attacked Cervantes in the ‘* Anti-Quix- 
ote,” the first volume of which was 
published in 1805, but was followed by 
none of the five that were intended to 
complete it; and received an answer, 
quite satisfactory, but more severe than 
was needful, in a pamphlet, published 
at Madrid in 1806, 12mo, by J. A. 
Pellicer, without his name, entitled 
*¢Examen Critico del Tomo Primero 
de el Anti-Quixote.” And finally, Don 
Antonio Eximeno, in his ‘‘ Apologia de 
Miguel de Cervantes,” (Madrid, 1806, 
12mo,) excuses or defends everything 
in the Don Quixote, giving us a new 
chronological plan, (p. 60,) with exact 
astronomical reckonings, (p. 129,) and 
maintaining, among other wise posi- 
tions, that Cervantes intentionally rep- 
resented Don Quixote to have lived 
both in an earlier age and in his own 
time, in order that curious readers might 
be confounded, and, after all, only some 
imaginary period be assigned to his 
hero’s achievements (pp. 19, etc.). All 
this, I think, is eminently absurd ; but 
it is the consequence of the blind admi- 
ration with which Cervantes was idol- 
ized in Spain during the latter part of 
the last century and the beginning of 
the present ; — itself partly a result of 
the coldness with which he had been 
overlooked by the learned of his coun- 
trymen for nearly a century previous to 
that period. Don Quixote, Madrid, 
1819, 8vo, Prdlogo de la Academia, 

88 Conde, the author of the ‘‘ Domi- 
nacion de los Arabes en Espafia,” under- 
takes, in a pamphlet published in con- 
junction with J. A. Pellicer, to show 
that the name of this pretended Arabic 


author, Cid Hamete Benengeli, is a com- 
bination of Arabic words, meaning 20- 
ble, satirical, and unhappy. (Carta en 
Castellano, etc., Madrid, 1800, 12mo, 
pp. 16-27.) It may be so; but it is 
not in character for Cervantes to seek 
such refinements, or to make such a 
display of his little learning, which does 
not seem to have extended beyond a 
knowledge of the vulgar Arabic spoken 
in Barbary, the Latin, the Italian, and 
the Portuguese. Like Shakespeare, 
however, Cervantes had read and re- 
membered nearly all that had been 
printed in his own language, and con- 
stantly makes the most felicitous allu- 
sions to the large stores of his knowl- 
edge of this sort. 

Clemencin, however, sometimes seems 
willing to extend the learned reading 
of Cervantes further than is necessary. 
Thus (Don Quixote, Tom. III. p 132) 
he thinks the Discourse of the Knight 
on Arms and Letters (Parte II. ¢. 37 
and 38) may be traced to an obscure 
Latin treatise on the same subject print- 
ed in 1549. It does not seem to be 
needful to refer to any particular source 
for a matter so obvious, especially to a 
Spaniard of the time of Cervantes ; but 
if it be worth while to do so, a nearer 
one, and one much more probable, may 
be found in the Dedication of the ‘‘ Flo- 
res de Seneca traducidas por Juan Cor- 
dero,” (Anvers, 1555, 12mo,) a person 
much distinguished and honored in his 
time, as we see from Ximeno and Fus- 
ter. 

There was an answer to Conde’s 
‘¢Carta en Castellano,” entitled ‘‘ Res- 
puesta a la Carta en Castellano, etc., 
por Don Juan Fran. Perez de Cacegas”’ 
(Madrid, 1800, 18mo, pp. 60). It was 
hardly needed, I think, and its temper 
is not better than that of such contro- 
versial tracts generally among the Span- 
iards. But some of its hits at the 
notes of Pellicer to Don Quixote are 
well deserved. 


Cuar. XIJ.] DEFECTS OF THE DON QUIXOTE. 177 


brought home confessedly in the year 1604. To add 
further to this confusion, when we reach the Second 
Part, which opens only a month after the conclusion of 
the First, and continues only a few weeks, we have, at 
the side of the same claims of an ancient Arabian 
author, a conversation about the expulsion of the 
Moors,” which happened after 1609, and much criticism 
on Avellaneda, whose work was published in 1614. 

But this is not all. As if still further to accumulate 
contradictions and incongruities, the very details of the 
story he has invented are often in whimsical conflict 
with each other, as well as with the historical facts 
to which they allude. Thus, on one occasion, the 
scenes which he had represented as having occurred in 
the course of a single evening and the following morn- 
ing are said to have occupied two days;* on another, 
he sets a company down to a late supper, and after 
conversations and stories that must have carried them 
nearly through the night, he says, “It began to draw 
towards evening.” In different places he calls the 
same individual by different names, and — what is 
rather amusing — once reproaches Avellaneda with a 
mistake which was, after all, his own.” And finally, 
having discovered the inconsequence of saying seven 
times that Sancho was on his ass after Gines de Passa- 
monte had stolen it, he took pains, in the only 
edition of the First Part that he ever * revised, *150 
‘to correct two of his blunders, — heedlessly 


89 Don Quixote, Parte II. ¢. 54. 

49 The criticism on Avellaneda be- 
gins, as we have said, Parte II. c. 59. 

41 Parte I. c. 46. 

42 <«Tlegaba ya la noche,” he says in 
c. 42 of Parte I., when all that had oc- 
curred from the middle of c. 37 had 
happened after they were set down to 
supper. 


VOL. I. 12 


43 Cervantes calls Sancho’s wife by 
three or four different names (Parte I. 
ce. 7 and 52, and Parte II. c. 5 and 59); 
and Avellaneda having, in some degree, 
imitated him, Cervantes makes himself 
very merry at the confusion ; not’ no- 
ticing that the mistake was really his 
own. 


178 MERITS OF THE DON QUIXOTE. [Perrop II. 


overlooking the rest; and when he published the 
Second Part, laughed heartily at the whole, — the 
errors, the corrections, and all, —as things of little 
consequence to himself or anybody else. 

The romance, however, which he threw so carelessly 
from him, and which, I am persuaded, he regarded 
rather as a bold effort to. break up the absurd taste of 
his time for the fancies of chivalry than as anything of 
more serious import, has been established by an unin- 
terrupted, and, it may be said, an unquestioned, suc- 
cess ever since, both as the oldest classical specimen of 
romantic fiction, and as one of the most remarkable 
monuments of modern genius. But though this may 
be enough to fill the measure of human fame and 
glory, it is not all to which Cervantes is entitled; for, 
if we would do him the justice that would have been 
most welcome to his own spirit, and even if we would 
ourselves fully comprehend and enjoy the whole of his 
Don Quixote, we should, as we read it, bear in mind, 
that this delightful romance was not the result of a 
youthful exuberance of feeling and a happy external 
condition, nor composed in his best years, when the 
spirits of its author were light and his hopes high; but 
that — with all its unquenchable and irresistible hu- 
mor, with its bright views of the world, and its cheer- 
ful trust in goodness and virtue — it was written in his 
old age, at the conclusion of a life nearly every step of 
which had been marked with disappointed expecta-. 
tions, disheartening struggles, and sore calamities; 


#4 The facts referred to are these. 
Gines de Passamonte, in the 23d chap- 


the edition of 1608, Cervantes corrected 
two of these careless mistakes on leaves 


ter of Part First, (ed. 1605, f. 108,) 
steals Sancho’s ass. But hardly three 
leaves further on, in the same edition, 
_ we find Sancho riding again, as usual, 
on the poor beast, which reappears yet 
six other times out of all reason. In 


109 and 112; but left the jive others 
just as they stood before ; and in Chap-. 
ters 3 and 27 of the Second Part, (ed. 
1615,) jests about the whole matter, 
but shows no disposition to attempt 
further corrections. 


Cuap, XII.] 


MERITS OF THE DON QUIXOTE. 


179 


that he began it in a prison, and that it was finished 
when he felt the hand of death pressing heavy and 


cold upon his heart. 


If this be remembered as we 


read, we may feel, as we ought to feel, what admira- 
tion and reverence are due, not only to the 


living power of Don * Quixote, but to the char- 


nit aH 


acter and genius of Cervantes; — if it be for- 
gotten or underrated, we shall fail in regard to both.” 


45 Having expressed so strong an 
opinion of Cervantes’s merits, I cannot 
refuse myself the pleasure of citing the 
words of the modest and wise Sir Wil- 
liam Temple, who, when speaking of 
works of satire, and rebuking Rabelais 
for his indecency and profaneness, says : 
**The matchless writer of Don Quixote 
is much more to be admired for having 
made up so excellent a composition of. 
satire or ridicule without those ingredi- 
ents ; and seems to be the best and 


highest strain that ever has been or will 
be reached by that vein.’’ Works, Lon- 
don, 1814, 8vo, Vol. III. p. 436. To 
this may not inappropriately be added 
the opinion of Dr. Johnson, who ‘‘con- 
fessed that the work of Cervantes was 
the greatest in the world after Homer’s 
Iliad, speaking of it, I mean,” says Mrs. 
Piozzi, ‘‘as a book of entertainment.” 
Boswell’s Johnson, Croker’s edition, 
1831, Vol. IV. pp. 877, 378. See Ap- 
pendix (E). 


Pb? *CHA PT Rex Til. 


LOPE DE VEGA.—HIS EARLY LIFE.—A SOLDIER.—HE WRITES THE ARCA- 
DIA. — MARRIES.—HAS A DUEL.—FLIES TO VALENCIA.— DEATH OF HIS 
WIFE.—HE SERVES IN THE ARMADA.— RETURNS TO MADRID. — MARRIES 
AGAIN.— DEATH OF HIS SONS.—HE BECOMES RELIGIOUS.—HIS POSITION 
AS A MAN OF LETTERS.—HIS SAN ISIDRO, HERMOSURA DE ANGELICA, 
DRAGONTEA, PEREGRINO EN SU PATRIA, AND JERUSALEN CONQUISTADA. 


Ir is impossible to speak of Cervantes as the 
great genius of the Spanish nation without recalling 
Lope de Vega, the rival who far surpassed him in 
contemporary popularity, and rose, during the life- 
time of both, to a degree of fame which no Spaniard 
had yet attained, and which has been since reached 
by few of any country. To the examination, there- 
fore, of this great man’s claims,— which extend to 
almost every department of the national literature, 
—we naturally turn, after examining those of the 
author of Don Quixote. 

Lope Felix de Vega Carpio was born on the 25th 
of November, 1562, at Madrid, whither his father had 
recently removed, almost by accident, from the old 
family estate of Vega, in the picturesque valley of 
Carriedo” From his earliest youth he discovered 


1 There is a life of Lope de Vega, 
which was first published in a single 
volume, by the third Lord Holland, in 
1806, and again, with the addition of a 
life of Guillen de Castro, in two vol- 
umes, 8vo, London, 1817. It is a 
pleasant book, and contains a good 
notice of both its subjects, and agree- 
able criticisms on their works ; but it is 
quite as interesting for the glimpses it 
gives of the fine accomplishments and 


generous spirit of its author, who spent 
some time in Spain, when he was about 
thirty years old, and never afterwards 
ceased to take an interest in its affairs 
and literature. He was much connect- 
ed with Jovellanos, Blanco White, and 
other distinguished Spaniards; not a 
few of whom, in the days of disaster 
that fell on their country during the 
French invasion, and the subsequent 
misgovernment of Ferdinand VII., en- 


Cuap. XIII.] 


LOPE DE VEGA. 181 


extraordinary * powers. We are assured by *153 
his friend Montalvan, that at five years of age 

he could not only read Latin as well as Spanish, 
but that he had such a passion for poetry, as to 
pay his more advanced schoolfellows with a share 
of his breakfast for writing down the verses he dic- 
tated to them, before he had learned to do it for 
himself? His father, who, as he intimates, was a 
poet,’ and who was much devoted to works of charity 
in the latter years of his life, died when he was very 
young, and left, besides Lope, a son who perished in 


joyed the princely hospitality of Hol- 
land House, where the benignant and 
frank kindliness of its noble master 
shed a charm and a grace over what 
was most intellectual and elevated in 
European society that could be given 
by nothing else. 

Lope’s own account of his origin and 
birth, in a poetical epistle to a Peruvian 
lady, who addressed him in verse under 
the name of ‘‘Amarylis,” is very odd. 
The correspondence is found in the first 
volume of his Obras Sueltas, (Madrid, 
1776-1779, 21 tom. 4to,) Epistolas 
XV. and XVI. ; and was first printed 
by Lope, if I mistake not, in 1624. It 
is now referred to for the following im- 
portant lines : — 

Tiene su silla en la bordada alfombra 

De Castilla el valor de la montana, 
Que el valle de Carriedo Espaiia nombra. 

All: otro tiempo se cifraba Espana ; 

Alli tuve principio ; mas que importa 
Nacer laurel y ser humilde caiia? 
Falta dinero alli, la tierra es corta ; 
Vino mi padre del solar de Vega: 
Assi 4 los pobres la nobleza exhorta ; 
Siguidle hasta Madrid, de zelos ciega, 
Su amorosa muger, porque él queria 
Una Espanola Helena, entonces Griega. 
Hicieron amistades, y aquel dia 
Fué piedra en mi primero fundamento 
La paz de su zelosa fantasia. 
En fin por zelos soy ; que nacimiento! 
Imaginalde vos que haver nacido 
De tan inquieta causa fué portento. 
And then he goes on with a pleasant 
account of his making verses as soon as 
he could speak ; of his early passion 
for Raymond Lulli, the metaphysical 
doctor then so much in fashion ; of his 
subsequent studies, his family, ete. 
Lope loved to refer to his origin in the 
mountains. He speaks of it in his 


‘*Laurel de Apolo,” (Silva VIII.,) and 
in two or three of his plays he makes 
his heroes boast that they came from 
that part of Spain to which he traced 
his own birth. Thus, in ‘‘ La Vengan- 
za Venturosa,” (Comedias, 4to, Madrid, 
Tom. X., 1620, f. 33, b,) Feliciano, a 
high-spirited old knight, says, — 
El noble solar que heredo, 
No lo daré 4 rico infame, 
Porque nadie me lo llame 
En el valle de Carriedo. 
And again, in the opening of the ‘‘ Pre- 
mio del Bien Hablar,” (4to, Madrid, 
Tom. XXI., 1635, f. 159,) where he 
seems to describe his own case and 
character : — 
Naci en Madrid, aunque son 
En Galicia los solares 
De mi nacimiento noble, 
De mis abuelos y padres. 
Para.noble nacimiento 
Ay en Espajia tres partes, 
Galicia, Vizcaya, Asturias, 
O ya montajas le aman. 
The valley of Carriedo is said to be very 
beautiful, and Mifano, in his ‘‘ Diccio- 
nario Geografico,” (Madrid, 8vo, Tom. 
II., 1826, p. 40,) describes La Vega as 
occupying a fine position on the banks 
of the Sandofiana. 

2 *¢ Before he knew how to write, he 
loved verses so much,” says Montalvan, 
his friend and eulogist, ‘‘ that he shared 
his breakfast with the older boys, in 
order to get them to take down for him 
what he dictated.” Fama Pédstuma, 
Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. p. 28. 

3 In the ‘‘ Laurel de Apolo,” he says 
he found rough copies of verses among 
his father’s papers, that seemed to him 
better than his own. 


182 LOPE DE VEGA AT COLLEGE. (Perrop II. 


the Armada in 1588, and a daughter who died in 
1601. In the period immediately following the fa- 
ther’s death, the family seems to have been scattered 
by poverty; and during this interval Lope 
* 154 probably lived with his uncle, * the Inquisi- 
tor, Don Miguel de Carpio, of whom he long 
afterwards speaks with great respect.’ 

But though the fortunes of his house were broken, 
his education was not neglected. He was sent to 
the Imperial College at Madrid, and in two years 
made extraordinary progress in ethics and in elegant 
literature, avoiding, as he tells us, the mathematics, 
which he found unsuited to his humor, if not to his 
genius. Accomplishments, too, were added, — fen- 
cing, dancing, and music; and he was going on in a 
way to gratify the wishes of his friends, when, at 
the age of fourteen, a wild, giddy desire to see the 
world took possession of him; and, accompanied by 
a schoolfellow, he ran away from college. At first, 
they went on foot for two or three days. Then they 
bought a sorry horse, and travelled as far as Astorga, 
in the northwestern part of Spain, not far from the 
old fief of the Vega family ; but there, growing tired 
of their journey, and missing more seriously than 
they had anticipated the comforts to which they had 
been accustomed, they determined to return home. 
At Segovia, they attempted, in a silversmith’s shop, . 
to exchange some doubloons and a gold chain for 
small coin, but were suspected to be thieves, and 
arrested. The magistrate, however, before whom 
they were brought, being satisfied that they were 
guilty of nothing but folly, released them; though, 


* See Dedication of the ‘‘ Hermosa Ester,” in Comedias, Madrid, 4to, Tom. 
XV., 1621. 


Cuar. XIII.] LOPE DE VEGA IN LOVE. 183 


wishing to do a kindness to their friends, as well 
as to themselves, he sent an officer of justice to de- 
liver them safely in Madrid.’ 

At the age of fifteen, as he tells us in one of his 
poetical epistles, he was serving as a soldier against 
the Portuguese in Terceira;° but only a little later 
than this we know that he filled some place 
*about the person of Geronimo Manrique, * 155 
Bishop of Avila, to whose kmdness he acknowl- 
edged himself to be much indebted, and in whose 
honor he wrote several eclogues,’ and inserted a long 
passage in his “Jerusalem.” Under the patronage of 
Manrique, he was, probably, sent to the University 
of Alcala, where he certainly studied some time, and 
not only took the degree of Bachelor, but was near 
submitting himself to the irrevocable tonsure of the 


priesthood. 


But, as we learn from some of his own accounts, 


he now fell in love. 


5 In the ‘* Fama Postuma.” 

6 This curious passage is in the Epis- 
tle, or Metro Lyrico, to D. Luis de Ha- 
ro, Obras Sueltas, Tom. IX. p. 379: — 


Ni mi fortuna muda 
Ver en tres lustros de mi edad primera 
Con la espada desnuda 
Al bravo Portugues en la Tercera, 
Ni despues en las naves Espanolas 
Del mar Ingles los puertos y las olas. 


I do not quite make out how this can 
have happened in 1577 ; but the asser- 
tion seems unequivocal. Schack (Ges- 
chichte der dramatischen Literatur in 
Spanien, Berlin, 1845, 8vo, Tom. II. 
p- 164) thinks the fifteen years here 
referred to are intended to embrace the 
fifteen years of Lope’s life as a soldier, 
which he extends from Lope’s eleventh 
year to his twenty-sixth, —1573 to 1588. 
But Schack’s ground for this is a mis- 
take he had himself previously made in 
supposing the Dedication of the ‘‘Gato- 
machia” to be addressed to Lope him- 
self ; whereas it is addressed to his son, 
named Lope, who served, at the age of 
fifteen, under the Marquis of Santa Cruz, 


Indeed, if we are to believe 


as we shall see hereafter. The ‘‘ Cupid 
in arms,” therefore, referred to in this 
Dedication, fails to prove, what Schack 
thought it proved ; and leaves the ‘‘fif- 
teen years” as dark a point as ever. 
See Schack, pp. 157, etc. 

7 These are the earliest works of Lope 
mentioned by his eulogists and biogra- 
phers, (Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. p. 30,) 
and must be dated as early as 1582 or 
1583. The ‘‘ Pastoral de Jacinto” is in 
the Comedias, Tom. XVIII., but was 
not printed till 1623. 

_® In the epistle to Doctor Gregorio de 
Angulo, (Obras Sueltas, Tom. I. p. 420,) 
he says: ‘‘Don Gerdnimo Manrique 
brought me up. I studied in Alcala, 
and took the degree of Bachelor ; I was 
even on the point of becoming a priest ; 
but I fell blindly in love, God forgive 
it ; I am married now, and he that is 
so ill off fears nothing.” Elsewhere he 
speaks of his obligations to Manrique 
more warmly ; for instance, in his Dedi- 
cation of ‘‘Pobreza no es Vileza,” (Co- 
medias, 4to, Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629, ) 
where his language is very strong. 


184 LOPE DE VEGA AND THE DUKE OF ALVA. [Penton IL. 
the tales he tells of himself in his “Dorothea,” which 
was written in his youth and printed with the sanc- 
tion of his old age, he suffered great extremity from 
that passion when he was only seventeen. Some of 
the stories of that remarkable dramatic romance, in 
which he figures under the name of Fernando, are, it 
may be hoped, fictitious;° though it must be ad- 
mitted that others, hke the scene between the hero 
and Dorothea, in the first act, the account of his 
weeping behind the door with Marfisa, on the day 
she was to be married to another, and most of the 
narrative parts in the fourth act, have an air of 
reality about them that hardly permits us to doubt 
they were true.” Taken together, however, they do 
him little credit as a young’man of honor and a cay- 
alier. 

*From Alcalé, Lope came to Madrid, and 
attached himself to the Duke of Alva; not, 
as it has been generally supposed, the remorseless 
favorite of Philip the Second, but Antonio, the great 
Duke’s grandson, who had succeeded to his ancestor’s 
fortunes without inheriting his formidable spirit.” 


* 156 


9 See Dorotea, Acto I. sc. 6, in which, 
having coolly made up his mind to aban- 
don Marfisa, he goes to her and pre- 
tends he has killed one man and wound- 
ed another in a night brawl, obtaining 
by this base falsehood the unhappy 
creature’s jewels, which he needed to 
pay his expenses, and which she gave 
him out of her overflowing affection. 
Francisco Lopez de Aguilar, who de- 
fended the theatre in Lope de Vega’s 
lifetime, says of the Dorotea (Obras 
de Lope, Tom. VII. p. vii), ‘‘Siendo 
ecierta imitacion de verdad, le parecia 
que no lo seria hablando las personas 
en verso.” 

1 Act I. se. 5, and Act IV. se. 1, 
have a great air of reality about them. 
But other parts, like that of the dis- 
courses and troubles that came from 


giving to one person the letter intended 
for another, are quite too improbable, 
and too much like the inventions of 
some of his own plays, to be trusted. 
(Act. V. sc. 3, etc.) M. Fauriel, how- 
ever, whose opinion on such subjects is 
always to be respected, regards the 
wholeastrue. Revuedes Deux Mondes, 
September 1, 1839. 

1 Lord Holland treats him as the 
old Duke (Life of Lope de Vega, Lon- 
don, 1817, 2 vols., 8vo) ; and Southey 
(Quarterly Review, 1817, Vol. XVIII. 
p. 2) undertakes to show that it could 
be no other; while Nicolas Antonio 
(Bib. Nov., Tom. II. p. 74) speaks as 
if he were doubtful, though he inclines 
to think it was the elder. But there 
is no doubt about it. Lope repeatedly 
speaks of Antonio, the grandson, as his 


Cnap. XIII] THE ARCADIA. 185 


Lope was much liked by his new patron, and rose 
to be his confidential secretary, living with him 
both at court and in his retirement at Alva, where 
letters seem for a time to have taken the place of 
arms and affairs. At the suggestion of the Duke, 
he wrote his “ Arcadia,” a pastoral romance, making 
a volume of considerable size; and, though chiefly 
in prose, yet with poetry of various kinds freely 
intermixed. Such compositions, as we have seen, 
were already favored in Spain;—the last of them, 
the “ Galatea” of Cervantes, published in 1584, giv- 
ing, perhaps, occasion to the Arcadia, which seems 
to have been written almost immediately afterwards. 
Most of them have one striking peculiarity; that 
of concealing, under the forms of pastoral life in 
ancient times, adventures which had really occurred 
in the times of their respective authors. The 
Duke was desirous to figure among these * fan- 
tastic shepherds and shepherdesses, and there- 
fore induced Lope to write the Arcadia, and make 
him its hero, furnishing some of his own experiences 
as materials for the work. At least, so the affair was 
understood both in Spain and France, when the Arca- 
dia was published, in 1598; besides which, Lope him- 
self, a few years later, in the Preface to some miscel- 


i Ray 


patron ; e. g. in his epistle to the Bish- 
op of Oviedo, where he says :— 
Y yo del Duque Antonio dexé el Alva. 
Obras Sueltas, Tom. I. p. 289. 

And in the opening words of the Dedi- 
cation of his ‘‘ Domine Lucas,” where 
he says: ‘‘Sirviendo al excelentisimo 
Don Antonio de Toledo y Beamonte, 
Duque de Alva, en la edad que pude 
escribir : — 

La verde primavera 

De mis floridos afios.” 

Comedias, Tom, XVII. 1621, f. 187, b. 

He, however, praised the elder Duke 
abundantly in the second, third, and 
fifth books of the ‘‘ Arcadia,” giving in 


the last an account of his death and of 
the glories of his grandson, whom he 
again notices as his patron. Indeed, 
the case is quite plain, and it is only 
singular that it should need an expla- 
nation; for the idea of making the 
Duke of Alva, who was minister to 
Philip II., a shepherd, seems to be a 
caricature or an absurdity, or both. 
It is, however, the common impression, 
and may be again found in the Sema- 
nario Pintoresco, 1839, p. 18. The 
ee Duke, on the contrary, loved 
etters, and, if I mistake not, there is 
a Cancion of his in the Cancionero Gen- 
eral of 1573, f. 178. 


186 THE ARCADIA. (Perron II. 


laneous poems, tells us expressly, “The Arcadia is a 
true history.” ” 

But whether it be throughout a true history or not, 
it is a very unsatisfactory one. It is commonly re- 
warded as an imitation of its popular namesake, the 
« Arcadia” of Sannazaro, of which a Spanish translation 
had appeared in 1547; but it much more resembles 
the similar works of Montemayor and Cervantes, both 
in story and style. Metaphysics and magic, as in the 
“Diana” and “ Galatea,” are strangely mixed up with 
the shows of a pastoral life; and, as in them, we listen 
with little interest to the perplexities and sorrows of a 
lover who, from mistaking the feelings of his mistress, 
treats her in such a way that she marries another, and 
then, by a series of enchantments, is saved from the 
effects of his own despair, and his heart is washed so 
clean, that, like Orlando’s, there is not one spot of love 
left in it. All this, of course, is unnatural; for the 
personages it represents are such as can never have 
existed, and they talk in a language strained above 
the tone becoming prose ; all propriety of costume and 
manners is neglected; so much learning is crowded 
into it, that a dictionary is placed at the end to make 
it intelligible ;,and it is drawn out to a length which 
now seems quite absurd, though the editions it soon 
passed through show that it was not too long for the 


12 The truth of the stories, or some 
of the stories, in the Arcadia, may be 
inferred from the mysterious intima- 
tions of Lope in the Prdlogo to the first 
edition ; in the ‘‘ Egloga 4 Claudio”; 
and in the Preface to the ‘‘ Rimas,” 
(1602,) put into the shape of a letter to 
Juan de Arguijo. Quintana, too, in 
the Dedication to Lope of his ‘‘ Expe- 
riencias de Amor y Fortuna,” (1626,) 
says of the Arcadia, that ‘‘ under a rude 
covering are hidden souls that are noble 
and events that really happened.” See, 


also, Lope, Obras Sueltas, Tom. XIX. 
p- xxii, and Tom. II. p. 456. That it 
was believed to be true in France is ap- 
parent from the Preface to old Lance- 
lot’s translation, under the title of 
**Délices de la Vie Pastorale” (1624). 
Figueroa (Pasagero, 1617, f. 97, b) says 
the same thing of pastorals in general, 
and cites the Galatea and the Arcadia 
in proof of it. It is important to settle 
the fact, for it must be referred to 
hereafter. See post, Chap. XXXIII., 
note 8. 


— 


Cuap. XIII.] LOPE DE VEGA MARRIED. 187 


taste of its time. It should be added, however, 
that *it occasionally furnishes happy specimens * 158 
of a glowing declamatory eloquence, and that 
in its descriptions of natural scenery there is some- 
times great felicity of imagery and illustration.” 
About the time when Lope was writing the Arcadia, 
he married Isabela de Urbina, daughter of the King-at- 
arms to Philip the Second and Philip the Third ; a lady, 
we are told, not a little loved and admired in the high 
circle to which she belonged.* But his domestic hap- 
piness was soon interrupted. He fell into a quarrel 
with a hidalgo of no very good repute; lampooned him 
in a satirical poem; was challenged, and wounded 
his adversary ;— in consequence of all which, and of 
other follies of his youth that seem now to have been 
brought up against him, he was cast into prison.” He 


13 The Arcadia fills the sixth volume 
of Lope’s Obras Sueltas. Editions of it 
were printed in 1598, 1599, 1601, 1602, 
twice, 1603, 1605, 1612, 1615, 1617, 
1620, 1630, and often since, showing a 
great popularity. The first edition, 
1598, which I possess, and which I sup- 
pose is the first of Lope’s publications, 
makes 312 ff. in 12mo, besides the pref- 
atory matter and Index, and is from 
the press of Sanchez at Madrid. It 
contains a wood-engraving of Lope, 
which represents him as a somewhat 
stiff and gayly dressed young man. 

14 Her father, Diego de Urbina, was 
a person of some consequence, and fig- 
ures among the more distinguished na- 
tives of Madrid in Baena, ‘‘ Hijos de 
Madrid.” 

15 Montalvan, it should be noted, 
seems willing to slide over these 
“frowns of fortune, brought on by his 
youth and aggravated by his enemies.” 
But Lope attributes to them his exile, 
which came, he says, from ‘‘love in 
early youth, whose trophies were exile 
and its results tragedies.” (Epistola 
Primera 4 D. Ant. de Mendoza.) But 
he also attributes it to false friends, in 
the fine ballad where he represents him- 
self as looking down upon the ruins of 


Saguntum and moralizing on his own 
exile; ‘* Bad friends,” he says, ‘‘ have 
brought me here.” (Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. XVII. p. 434, and Romancero 
General, 1602, f. 108.) But again, in 
the Second Part of his ‘‘ Philomena,” 
1621, (Obras Sueltas, Tom. II. p. 452,) 
he traces his troubles to his earlier ad- 
ventures; ‘‘love to hatred turned.” 
‘* Love-vengeance,” he declares, ‘‘ dis- 
guised as justice, exiled me.” 

But the whole of this portion of Lope’s 
life is obscure. Some light, however, 
is thrown on it by a letter which he 
addressed to the king in 1598, and a 
copy of which I obtained from the kind- 
ness of the last Lord Holland, to whose 
father, the biographer of Lope, it was 
sent, many years ago, by Don Martin 
Fernandez de Navarrete. As it is im- 
portant, and, I think, unpublished, I 
give it entire. It seems to have been 
written from the villa of Madrid. 

‘«Sefior, Lope de Vega Carpio, vecino 
de esta villa dice: Que V. M. le ha 
hecho merced de alzarle lo que le falta- 
ba de cumplir de diez afios de destierro 
en que fue condenado por los Alcaldes 
de Corte deste reyno, los dos que cum- 
plid y los ocho della y cinco leguas, 
porque se le opusd haber hecho ciertas 


188 {[Periop II. 


LOPE DE VEGA IN VALENCIA. 
*159 was not, however, left without a *true friend. 

Claudio Conde, who, on more than one occa- 
sion, showed a genuine attachment to Lope’s person, 
accompanied him to his cell, and, when he was released 
and exiled, went with him to Valencia, where Lope 
himself was treated with extraordinary kindness and 
consideration, though exposed, he says, at times, to 
dangers as great as those from which he had suffered 
so much at Madrid.” 

The exile of Lope lasted at least two years, and 
was chiefly passed at Valencia, then in literary reputa- 
tion next after Madrid among the cities of Spain. Nor 
does he seem to have missed the advantages it offered 
him ; for it was, no doubt, during his residence there 
that he formed a friendship with Gaspar de Aguilar 
and Guillen de Castro, of which many traces are to be 
found in his works; while, on the other hand, it is 


satiras contra Geronimo Velazquez, au- 
tor de comedias y otras personas de su 
casa, y porque durante dicho destierro 
& cosas forzosas que se le ofrecieron 
entrO en esta corte y otras partes en 
quebrantamiento del ; — suplica le haga 
merced de remitirle las penas que por 
ello incurrid.” 

The following note is in Navarrete’s 
well-known handwriting: ‘‘Me lo envio 
de Simancas el Sr. D. Tomas Gonzalez 
encargado del arreglo de aquel archivo 
nacional. Martin Fernandez de Navar- 
rete.”” And on the back is indorsed, 
‘*Carta de Lope de Vega al Rey pidi- 
endo le haga la gracia de remitir las 
penas incurridas por el, afio 1598.” 

From this letter it appears that the 
avowed cause of Lope’s exile was cer- 
tain satires against Geronimo Velaz- 
quez, autor de Comedias, and other per- 
sons of his kin ;— that he had broken 
its terms by coming within the five 
leagues of the court from which he 
was forbidden ; and that he now asked 
a pardon from the penalties he had 
thus incurred, having already obtained 
a remission of the term of exile not yet 
fulfilled. Now there is a certain Ve- 


lazquez noticed in C. Pellicer’s ‘‘ Origen 
de la Comedia,” etc., (Madrid, 1804, 
Tom. IL. p. 141,) who answers all the 
conditions given by Montalvan and 
Lope of the ‘‘ Autor de Comedias”’ in 
question, and Pellicer has given part 
of a popular satire on him, which, it is 
not unlikely, may be the very one 
for which Lope was exiled. Pellicer, 
however, neither suspected the distin- 
guished authorship of the verses he 
cites, nor knew the first name of Velaz- 
quez. 

16 His relations with Claudio are no- 
ticed by himself in the Dedication to 
that ‘‘true friend,” as he justly calls 
him, of the well-known play, ‘‘ Court- 
ing his own Misfortunes” ;— ‘‘ which 
title,” he adds, ‘‘is well suited to those 
adventures, when, with so much love, 
you accompanied me to prison, from 
which we went to Valencia, where we 
ran into no less dangers than we had 
incurred at home, and where I repaid 
you by liberating you from the tower 
of Serranos [a jail at Valencia] and the 
severe sentence you were there under- 
going,” etc. Comedias, Tom. XV., 
Madrid, 1621, f. 26. 


Cuar. XIII] HIS WIFE DIES. 189 
perhaps not unreasonable to assume that the theatre, 
which was just then beginning to take its form in 
Valencia, was much indebted to the fresh power of 
Lope for an impulse it never afterwards lost. At any 
rate, we know that he was much connected with the 
Valencian poets, and that, a little later, they were 
among his marked followers in the drama. But his 
exile was still an exile,— bitter and wearisome to 
him,—and he gladly returned to Madrid as soon as 
he could venture there safely. 

His home, however, soon ceased to be what it had 
been. His young wife died in less than a year 
after his * return, and one of his friends, Pedro 
de Medinilla,” joined him in an eclogue to her 
memory, which is dedicated to Lope’s patron, Antonio, 
Duke of Alva,'*—a poem of little value, and one that 
does much less justice to his feelings than some of his 
numerous verses to the same lady, under the name of 
Belisa, which are scattered through his own works and 


* 160 


found in the old Romanceros.” 


17 Baltasar Elisio de Medinilla, whose 
violent death is mourned by Lope de 
Vega in an Elegy in the first volume 
of his works, wrote a Poem entitled 
‘*Limpia Concepcion de la Virgen Nu- 
estra Sefiora,”’ Madrid, 1617, 12mo, pp. 
89, —the fruit, he tells us, of seven 
years’ labor, and published at the age 
of thirty-two. Lope, in some prefatory 
verses, says of it, — 

Letor no ay silaba aqui 

Que de oro puro no sea, ec. 
But it is, after all, a dull poem, divided 
into five books, and about five hundred 
octave stanzas, beginning with the 
prayers of Joachim for offspring, and 
ending with the mysterious conception. 
The subject — always popular in Spain 
— may have gained more regard for it 
than it deserved ; but it was never re- 
printed. 

18 Obras Sueltas, Tom. IV. pp. 430- 
443, Belardo, the name Lope bears in 
this eclogue, is the one he gave himself 


in the Arcadia, as may be seen from 
the sonnet prefixed to that pastoral by 
Amphryso, or Antonio, Duke of Alva ; 
and it is the poetical name Lope bore 
to the time of his death, as may be seen 
from the beginning of the third act of 
the drama in honor of his memory. 
(Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. p. 494.) 
Even his Peruvian Amaryllis knew it, 
and under this name addressed to him 
the poetical epistle already referred to. 
This fact —that Belardo was his recog- 
nized poetical appellation — should be 
borne in mind when reading the poetry 
of his time, where it frequently recurs. 

19 Belisa is an anagram of Isabela, 
the first name of his wife, as is plain 
from a sonnet on the death of her 
mother, Theodora Urbina, where he 
speaks of her as ‘‘the heavenly image 
of his Belisa, whose silent words and 
gentle smiles had been the consolation 
of his exile.” (Obras Sueltas, Tom. IV. 
p- 278.) There are several ballads con- 


190 


LOPE DE VEGA IN THE ARMADA. _ [PeEnriop II. 


It must be admitted, however, that there is some con- 
fusion in this matter. The ballads bear witness to the 
jealousy felt by Isabela on account of his relations with 
another fair lady, who passes under the name of Filis, 
—a jealousy which seems to have caused him no small 
embarrassment; for while, in some of his verses, he de- 
clares it has no foundation, in others he admits and jus- 
tifies it. But however this may have been, a very 
short time after Isabela’s death he made no secret 
of his passion for the rival who had disturbed her 

peace. He was not, however, successful. For 
*161 some reason *or other, the lady rejected his suit. 

He was in despair, as his ballads prove; but his 
despair did not last long. In less than a year from the. 
death of Isabela it was all over, and he had again taken, 
to amuse and distract his thoughts, the genuine Spanish 
resource of becoming a soldier. 

The moment in which he made this decisive change 
in his life was one when a spirit of military adventure 
was not unlikely to take possession of a character 
always seeking excitement; for it was just as Philip 
the Second was preparing the portentous Armada, with 
which he hoped, by one blow, to overthrow the power 
of Elizabeth and bring back a nation: of heretics to 
the bosom of the Church. Lope, therefore, as he 
tells us in one of his eclogues, finding the lady of his 
love would not smile upon him, took his musket on 
his shoulder, amidst the universal enthusiasm of 1588, 
marched to Lisbon, and, accompanied by his faithful 


nected with her in the Romancero Gen- 
eral, and a beautiful one in the third of 
Lope’s Tales, written evidently while 
he was with the Duke of Alva. Obras, 
Tom. VIII. p. 148. 

2) For instance, in the fine ballad be- 
ginning, ‘‘ Llenos de l’grimas tristes,” 
(Romancero.of 1602, f. 47,) he says to 


Belisa, ‘‘ Let Heaven condemn me to 
eternal woe, if I do not detest Phillis 
and adore thee” ;— which may be con- 
sidered as fully contradicted by the 
equally fine ballad addressed to Filis, 
(f. 13,) ** Amada pastora mia” ; as well 
as by six or eight others of the same 
sort, — some more, some less tender. 


Cuar. XIII.] LOPE DE VEGA IN THE ARMADA. 191 


friend Conde, went on board the magnificent arma- 
ment destined for England, where, he says, he used 
up for wadding the -verses he had written in his 
lady’s praise.” 

A succession of disasters followed this ungallant 
jest. His brother, from whom he had long been sep- 
arated, and whom he now found as a leutenant on 
board the Saint John, in which he himself served, 
died in his arms of a wound received during a fight 
with the Dutch. Other great troubles crowded after 
this one. Storms scattered the unwieldy fleet; ca- 
lamities of all kinds confounded prospects that had 
just before been so full of glory; and Lope must 
have thought himself but too happy, when, after the 
Armada had been dispersed or destroyed, he was 
brought back in safety, first to Cadiz and afterwards 
to Toledo and Madrid, reaching the last city, prob- 
ably, in 1590. It is a curious fact, however, in his 
personal history, that, amidst all the terrors and suf- 
fermgs of this disastrous expedition, he found leisure 
and quietness of spirit to write the greater 
part of his long *poem on “The Beauty of *162 
Angelica,’ which he intended as a continua- 
tion of the “ Orlando Furioso.” * 

But Lope could not well return from such an expe- 
dition without something of that feeling of disap- 
pointment which, with the nation at large, accompa- 
nied its failure. Perhaps it was owing to this that he 
entered again on the poor course of life of which he 


21 Volando en tacos del caion violento turned to Cadiz in September, 1588, 
Los papeles de Filis por el viento. having sailed from Lisbon in the pre- 
Egloga 4 Claudio, Obras, Tom. IX. p. 356. ceding May; so that Lope was proba- 
22 One of his poetical panegyrists, bly at sea about four months. Further 
after his death, speaking of the Arma- notices of his naval service may be 
da, says: ‘‘There andinCadizhe wrote found in the third canto of his ‘‘ Coro- 
the Angelica,” (Obras, Tom. XX. p. na Trdagica,” and the second of his 
348.) The remains of the Armadare- ‘‘ Philomena.” 


192 LOPE DE VEGA’S SECOND MARRIAGE. [Penton II. 


had already made an experiment with the Duke of 
Alva, and became secretary, first of the Marquis of 
Malpica, and afterwards of the generous Marquis 
of Sarria, who, as Count de Lemos, was, a little later, 
the patron of Cervantes and the Argensolas. While 
he was in the service of the last distinguished noble- 
man, and already known as a dramatist, he became 
attached to Dofia Juana de Guardio, a lady of good 
family in Madrid, whom he married in 1597; and, 
soon afterwards leaving the Count de Lemos, had 
never any other patrons than those whom, like the 
Duke of Sessa, his literary fame procured for him.” 
Lope had now reached the age of thirty-five, and 
seems to have enjoyed a few years of happiness, to 
which he often alludes, and which, in two of his 
poetical epistles, he has described with much gentle- 
ness and grace.“ But it did not last long. A son, 
Carlos, to whom he was tenderly attached, 
* 163 lived only to his seventh *year;* and the 
mother died, giving -birth, at the same time, 
to Feliciana,? who was afterwards married to Don 
Luis de Usategui, the editor of some of his father-in- 


23 Don Pedro Fernandez de Castro, 
Count of Lemos and Marquis of Sarria, 
who was born in Madrid about 1576, 
married a daughter of the Duke de 
Lerma, the reigning favorite and min- 
ister of the time, with whose fortunes 
he rose, and in whose fall he was ruined. 
The period of his highest honors was 
that following his appointment as Vice- 
roy of Naples, in 1610, where he kept 
a literary court of no little splendor, 
that had for its chief directors the two 
Argensolas, and with which, at one time, 
Quevedo was connected. The count 
died in 1622, at Madrid. Lope’s prin- 
cipal connections with him were when 
he was young, and before he had come 
to his title as Count de Lemos. He 
records himself as ‘‘Secretary of the 
Marquis of Sarria,” in the title-page of 
the Arcadia, 1598; besides which, many 


years afterwards, when writing to the 
Count de Lemos, he says: ‘‘ You know 
how I love and reverence you, and that, 
many a night, I have slept at your 
feet like a dog.” Obras Sueltas, Tom. 
XVII. p. 403. Clemencin, Don Quix- 
ote, Parte II., note to the Dedica- 
toria. 

24 Epistola al Doctor Mathias de Por- 
ras, and Epistola 4 Amarylis ; to which 
may be added the pleasant epistle to 
Francisco de Rioja, in which he de- 
scribes his garden and the friends he 
received in it. 

25 On this son, see Obras, Tom. I. 
p. 472;—the tender Cancion on his 
death, Tom. XIII. p. 365 ;—and the 
beautiful Dedication to him of the 
‘* Pastores de Belen,” Tom XVI. p. xi. 

26 Obras, Tom. I. p. 472, and Tom. 
XX. p. 34. 


Cnap. XIII.] HIS INCONSISTENT LIFE. 193 


law’s posthumous works. Lope seems to have felt 
bitterly his desolate estate after the death of his wife 
and son, and speaks of it with much feeling in a 
poem addressed to his faithful friend Conde.” But 
earlier than this, in 1605, an illegitimate daughter 
was born to him, whom he named Marcela, — the same 
to whom, in 1620, he dedicated one of his plays, with 
extraordinary expressions of affection and admiration,” 
and who, in 1621, took the veil and retired from the 
world, renewing griefs, which, with his views of re- 
ligion, he desired rather to bear with patience, and 
even with pride” In 1606, the same lady,— Dona 
Maria de Luxan,—who was the mother of Marcela, 
bore him a son, whom he named Lope, and who, at 
the age of fourteen, appears among the poets at the 
canonization of San Isidro.” But though his father 
had fondly destined him for a life of letters, he in- 
sisted on becoming a soldier, and, after serving under 
the Marquis of Santa Cruz against the Dutch and 
the Turks, perished, when only fifteen years old, in 
a vessel which was lost at sea with all on board.® 
Lope poured forth his sorrows in a piscatory eclogue, 
less full of feeling than the verses in which he de- 
scribes Marcela taking the veil.” 


* After the birth of these two children, we * 164 


27 Obras, Tom. IX. p. 355. 

28 «*] Remedio de la Desdicha,” a 
play whose story is from the old ballads 
or the ‘‘ Diana” of Montemayor, (Co- 
medias, Tom. XIII., Madrid, 1620,) in 
the Preface to which he begs his daugh- 
ter to read and correct it; and prays 
that she may be happy in spite of the 
perfections which render earthly happi- 
ness almost impossible to her. She 
long survived her father, and died, 
much reverenced for her piety, in 1688. 

29 The description of his grief, and 
of his religious feelings as she took the 
veil, is solemn, but he dwells a little 


VOL. II. 13 


too complacently on the splendor given 
to the occasion by the king, and by his 
patron, the Duke de Sessa, who desired 
to honor thus ‘a favorite and famous 
poet. Obras, Tom. I. pp. 313-316. 

89 Obras, Tom. XI. pp. 495 and 596, 
where his father jests about it. Itisa 
Glosa. He is called Lope de Vega Car- 
pio, ef mozo ; and it is added, that he 
was not yet fourteen years old. 

81 Obras, Tom. I. pp. 472 and 316. 

82 In the eclogue, (Obras, Tom. X. 
p- 362,) he is called, after both his 
father and his mother, Don Lope Felix 
del Carpio y Luxan. 


de 
a : 
; 


u i 


194 LOPE DE VEGA BECOMES A PRIEST. [Pxnrop II. 


hear nothing more of their mother. Indeed, soon 
afterwards, Lope, no longer at an age to be deluded 
by his passions, began, according to the custom of his 
time and country, to turn his thoughts seriously to 
religion. He devoted himself to pious works, as his 
father had done; visited the hospitals regularly; re- 
sorted daily to a particular church; entered a secular 
religious congregation ; and finally, at Toledo, in 1609, 
according to Navarrete, received the tonsure and 
became a priest. The next year he joined the same 
brotherhood of which Cervantes was afterwards a 
member.” In 1625, he entered the congregation of 
the native priesthood of Madrid, and was so faithful 
and exact in the performance of his duties, that, in 
1628, he was elected to be its chief chaplain. He is, 
therefore, for the twenty-six latter years of his long 
life, to be regarded as strictly connected with the 
Spanish Church, and as devoting to its daily service 
some portion of his time.* 

But we must not misunderstand the position in 
which, through these relations, Lope had now placed 
himself, nor overrate the sacrifices they required of 
him. Such a connection with the Church, in his 
time, by no means involved an abandonment of 
the world,— hardly an abandonment of its pleasures. 


83 Pellicer, ed. Don Quixote, Tom. I. 
p. excix. Navarrete, Vida de Cervan- 
tes, 1819, p. 468. 

3 There is a difficulty about these 
relations of Lope to the priesthood and 
to his married life. Of course, if he 
took the tonsure in 1609, he could not 
be a married man in 1611; and yet 
Schack (Nachtrage, p. 31) gives us 
these words from an autograph letter 
of Lope, dated Madrid, July 6, 1611, 
and found among the papers of his 
great patron and executor, the Duque 
de Sessa, viz. : ‘‘Aqui paso, Senor ex- 
celentisimo, mi vida con este mal im- 
portuno de mi mujer, egercitando actos 


de paciencia, que si fuesen voluntarios 
como precisos no fuera aqui su peniten- 
cia menos que principio del purgatorio.” 
In another letter of September 7, 1611, 
he speaks of getting along better with 
his wife Juana. Of course, if these 
dates are right, the reckoning of Pelli- 
cer and Navarrete is wrong, and Lope 
did not enter the priesthood before 1611 
or 1612; but he seems by his liaison 
with Maria de Luxan, in 1605-6, to 
have given cause enough for family dis- 
sensions such as these letters intimate. 
The ‘‘ brotherhood” did not imply celi- 
bacy. 





Cuap. XIII.] MORE INCONSISTENCIES. 195 


On the contrary, it was rather regarded as one of 
the means for securing the leisure suited to a life 
of letters and social ease. As such, unquestionably, 
Lope employed it; for, during the long series of 
years in which he was a priest, and gave regular 
portions of his time to offices of devotion 

*and charity, he was at the height of favor *165 
and fashion as a poet. And, what may seem to 

us more strange, it was during the same period he 
produced the greater number of his dramas, not a few 
of whose scenes offend against the most unquestioned 
precepts of Christian morality, while, at the same time, 
in their title-pages and dedications, he carefully sets 
forth his clerical distinctions, giving peculiar promi- 
nence to his place as a Familiar or servant of the Holy 
Office of the Inquisition.” 

It was, however, during the happier period of his 
married life that he laid the foundations for his 
general popularity as a poet. His subject was well 
chosen. It was that of the great fame and glory of 
San Isidro the Ploughman. This remarkable personage, 
who plays so distinguished a part in the ecclesiastical 
history of Madrid, is supposed to have been born in 
the twelfth century, on what afterwards became the 
site of that city, and to have led a life so eminently 


85 I notice the title Familiar del 
Santo Oficio as early as the ‘‘ Jerusalen 
Conquistada,” 1609. Frequently after- 


Lope, also, sometimes calls himself 
Frey in the titles of his works. This, 
however, it should be noted, is a differ- 


wards, as in the Comedias, Tom. II., 
VI., XL, etc., no other title is put to 
his name, as if this were glory enough. 
In his time, Familiar meant a person 
who could at any moment be called 
into the service of the Inquisition ; 
but had no special office, and no duties, 
till he was summoned. Covarruvias, 
ad verb. Lope, in his ‘‘Peregrino en 
su Patria,” (1604,) had already done 
homage to the Inquisition, calling it 
‘Esta santa y venerable Inquisicion,” 
etc. Lib. II. 


ent designation from Fray, though both 
come from the Latin Frater. For Fray 
means a monk, and, in common par- 
lance, a monk of some mendicant or- 
der ; whereas Frey is a member, wheth- 
er clerical or lay, of one of the great 
Spanish military and religious orders. 
Thus Lope de Vega was ‘‘Frey del Or- 
den de Malta,’ — not a small honor, 
—and Juan de la Cruz was ‘‘ Fray Des- 
calzo de la Reforma de Nuestra Sejio- 
ra del Carmen,’ —a severe order of 
monks, 


196 


'THE SAN ISIDRO. [PERiop If, 
pious, that the angels came down and ploughed his 
grounds for him, which the holy man neglected in 
order to devote his time to religious duties. From an 
early period, therefore, he enjoyed much consideration, 
and was regarded as the patron and friend of the 
whole territory, as well as of the city of Madrid itself. 
But his great honors date from the year 1598. In 
that year Philip the Third was dangerously ill at a 
neighboring village; the city sent out the remains of 
Isidro in procession to avert the impending calamity ; 
the king recovered; and for the first time the holy 
man became widely famous and fashionable.” 

* Lope seized the occasion, and wrote a long 
poem on the life of “Isidro the Ploughman,” or 
Farmer; so called to distinguish him from the learned 
saint of Seville who bore the same name. It consists 
of ten thousand lines, exactly divided among the ten 
books of which it is composed ;, and yet it was finished 
within the year, and published in 1599. It has no 
high poetical merit, and does not, indeed, aspire to any. 
But it was intended to be popular, and succeeded. It 
is written in the old national five-line stanza, carefully 
rhymed throughout; and, notwithstanding the appar- 
ent difficulty of the measure, it everywhere affords 
unequivocal proof of that facility and fluency of versifi- 
cation for which Lope became afterwards so famous. 
Its tone, which, on the most solemn matters of religion, 
is so familiar that we should now consider it indeco- 
rous, was no doubt in full consent with the spirit of the 


* 166 


86 He was, from a very early period, 
honored at home, in Madrid, and has 
continued to be so ever since ;—his 
humble origin and gentle character con- 
tributing no doubt to his popularity. 
A poem urging intercessions to him in 
consequence of a great drought at Ma- 


* 


drid in 1779 contains a list of the kings 
who had paid reverence to the poor 
ploughman, and among them are St. 
Ferdinand and Alfonso the Wise. Elo- 
gio a San Isidro, Labrador, Patron de 
Madrid, por D. Joachin Ezquerra, Ma- 
drid, 1779, 18mo, pp. 14. 


Cuar. XIII] THE SAN ISIDRO. 197 


times, and one main cause of its success. Thus, in 
Canto Third, where the angels come to Isidro and his 
wife Mary, who are too poor to entertain them, Lope 
describes the scene — which ought to be as solemn as 
anything in the poem, since it involves the facts on 
which ‘Isidro’s claim to canonization was subsequently 
admitted —in the following light verses, which may 
serve as a specimen of the measure and style of the 


whole ; — 

Three angels, sent by grace divine, 
Once on a time blessed Abraham’s sight ; — 
To Mamre came that vision bright, 
Whose number should our thoughts incline 
To Him of whom the Prophets write. 

But six now came to Isidore! 
And, heavenly powers! what consternation ! 
Where is his hospitable store ? 
Surely they come with consolation, 
And not to get a timely ration. 

Still, if in haste unleavened bread 
Mary, like Sarah, now could bake, 

* Or Isidore, like Abraham, take eOr 
The lamb that in its pasture fed, 
And honey from its waxen cake, 

I know he would his guests invite ; — 
But whoso ploughs not, it is right 
His sufferings the price should pay ;— 
And how has Isidore a way 
Six such to harbor for a night ? 

And yet he stands forgiven there, 
Though friendly bidding he make none ; 
For poverty prevents alone ; — 
But, Isidore, thou still canst spare 
What surest rises to God’s throne, 

Let Abraham to slay arise ; 
But, on the ground, in sacrifice, 
Give, Isidore, thy soul to God, 
Who never doth the heart despise 
That bows beneath his rod. 

He did not ask for Isaac’s death ; 
He asked for Abraham’s willing faith.%” 


37 Tres Angeles 4 Abraham Seis vienen 4 Isidro 4 ver: 
Una vez aparecieron, O gran Dios, que puede ser? 
Que 4 verle 4 Mambre vinieron : Donde los ha de alvergar? 
Bien que 4 este nimero dan Mas vienen 4 consolar, 


E] que en figura trujeron. Que no vienen 4 comer. 


198 THE HERMOSURA DE ANGELICA.  [Pxriop II. 


No doubt, some of the circumstances in the poem are 
invented for the occasion, though there is in the mar- 
gin much parade of authorities for almost everything ; 
—a practice very common at that period, to which 
Lope afterwards conformed only once or twice. But 
however we may now regard the “San Isidro,” it was 
printed four times in less than nine years; and by ad- 
dressing itself more to the national and popular feel- 
ing than the “ Arcadia” had done, it became the earli- 
est foundation for its author’s fame as the favorite poet 

of the whole nation. 
*168  *At this time, however, he was beginning to 

be so much occupied with the theatre, and so suc- 
cessful, that he had little leisure for anything else. His 
next considerable publication,® therefore, was not till 
1602, when the “Hermosura de Angélica,” or The 
Beauty of Angelica, appeared; a poem already men- 
tioned as having been chiefly written while its author 
served at sea in the ill-fated Armada. It somewhat pre- 
sumptuously claims to bea continuation of the “ Orlando 
Furioso,” and is stretched out through twenty cantos, 
comprehending above eleven thousand lines in octave 
verse. In the Preface, he says he wrote it “under the 
rigging of the galleon Saint John and the banners of 


Si como Sara, Maria 
Cocer luego pan pudiera, 
Y él como Abraham truxera 
El cordero que pacia, 
Y la miel entre la cera, 
Yo sé que los convidara. 
Mas quando lo que no ara, 
Le dicen que ha de pagar ; 
Como podra convidar 
A seis de tan buena cara? 
Disculpado puede estar, 
Puesto que no los convide, 
Pues su pobreza lo impide, 
Isidro, aunque puede dar 
Muy bien lo que Dios le pide. 
“Vaya Abraham al ganado, 
Y en el suelo humilde echado, 
Dadle el alma, Isidro, vos, 
Que nunca desprecia Dios 
El corazon humillado. 
-No.queria el sacrificio 


De Isaac, sino la obediencia 
De Abraham 
Obras Sueltas, Tom. XI. p. 69. 
The three angels that came to Abra- 
ham are often taken by the elder theo- 
logians, as they are by Lope, to sym- 
bolize the Trinity. Navarrete— more 
commonly known as E/ Mudo, or the 
Dumb Painter — endeavored to give this 
expression to them on canvas. Stirling’s 
Artists in Spain, 1848, Vol. I. p. 255. 
88 The ‘‘ Fiestas de Denia,” a poem 
in two short cantos, on the reception 
of Philip III. at Denia, near Valencia, 
in 1599, soon after his marriage, was 
printed the same year, but is of little | 
consequence. 


Cuar. XIII] THE HERMOSURA DE ANGELICA. | 199 


the Catholic king,” and that “he and the generalissimo 
of the expedition finished their labors together” ;—a 
remark which must not be taken too strictly, since 
both the thirteenth and twentieth cantos contain pas- 
sages relating to events in the reign of Philip the 
Third. Indeed, in the Dedication, he tells his patron 
that he had suffered the whole poem to lie by him long 
for want of leisure to correct it; and he elsewhere 
adds, that he leaves it still unfinished, to be completed 
by some happier genius. 

It is not unlikely that Lope was induced to write the 
Angelica by the success of several poems that had pre- 
ceded it on the same series of fictions, and especially 
by the favor shown to one published only two years be- 
fore, in the same style and manner, — the “ Angélica” 
of Luis Barahona de Soto, which is noticed with ex- 
- traordinary praise in the scrutiny of the Knight of La 
Mancha’s Library, as well as in the conclusion to Don 
Quixote, where a somewhat tardy compliment is paid 
to this very work of Lope. Both poems are obvious 
imitations of Ariosto; and if that of De Soto has been 
too much praised, it is, at least, better than Lope’s. And 
yet, in “The Beauty of Angelica,” the author 
might have been deemed to occupy ground * well * 169 
suited to his genius; for the boundless latitude 
afforded him by a subject filled with the dreamy adven- 
tures of chivalry was, necessarily, a partial release from 
the obligation to pursue a consistent plan, — while, at 
the same time, the example of Ariosto, as well as that 
of Luis de Soto, may be supposed to have launched 
him fairly forth upon the open sea of an unrestrained 
fancy, careless of shores or soundings. 

But perhaps this very freedom was a principal cause 
of his failure; for his story is to the last degree wild 


200 THE HERMOSURA DE ANGELICA. [Pertop II. 


and extravagant, and is connected by the slightest 
possible thread with the graceful fiction of Ariosto.® 
A king of Andalusia, as it pretends, leaves his king- 
dom by testament to the most beautiful man or woman 
that can be found.® All the world throngs to win the 
mighty prize; and one of the most amusing parts of 
the whole poem is that in which its author describes 
to us the crowds of the old and the ugly who, under 
such conditions, still thought themselves fit competi- 
tors. But as early as the fifth canto, the two lovers, 
Medoro and Angelica, who had been left in India by 
the Italian master, have already won the throne, and, 
for the sake of the lady’s unrivalled beauty, are 
crowned king and queen at Seville. 

Here, of course, if the poem had a regular subject, 
it would end; but now we are plunged at once into a 
series of wars and disasters, arising out of the discon- 
tent of unsuccessful rivals, which threaten to have no 
end. ‘Trials of all kinds follow. Visions, enchant- 
ments and counter enchantments, episodes quite un- 
connected with the main story, and broken up them- 
selves by the most perverse interruptions, are mingled _ 
together, we neither know why nor how; and when 
at last the happy pair are settled in their hardly won 
kingdom, we are as much wearied by the wild waste 
of fancy in which Lope has indulged himself, as we 

should have been by almost any degree of mo- 
*170 notony arising from a want of inventive * power. 
The best parts of the poem are those that con- 
tain descriptions of persons and scenery ;* the worst 
are those where Lope has displayed his learning, 

89 The point where it branches off indeed, a fair opening for the subject 

from the story of Ariosto is the six- of Lope’s Angélica. 


teenth stanza of the thirtieth canto of 49 La Angélica, Canto III. 
the ‘‘ Orlando Furioso,” where there is, 41 Cantos IV. and VII. 


Cuap. XIII.] THE DRAGONTEA. 201 


which he has sometimes done by filling whole stanzas 
with a mere accumulation of proper names. The ver- 
sification is extraordinarily fluent.” 

As The Beauty of Angelica was written in the ill- 
fated Armada, it contains occasional intimations of the 
author’s national and religious feelings, such as were 
naturally suggested by his situation. But in the same 
volume he at one time published a poem in which 
these feelings are much more fully and freely ex- 
pressed ;—-a poem, indeed, which is devoted to noth- 
ing else. It is called “La Dragontea,’ and is on the 
subject of Sir Francis Drake’s last expedition and _ 
death. Perhaps no other instance can be found of a 
grave epic devoted to the personal abuse of a single 
individual; and to account for the present one, we — 
must remember how familiar and formidable the name 
of Sir Francis Drake had long been in Spain. 

He had begun his career as a brilliant pirate in 
South America above thirty years before; he had 
alarmed all Spain by ravaging its coasts and occupying 
Cadiz, in a sort of doubtful warfare, which Lord Bacon 
tells us the free sailor used to call “singeing the king 
of Spain’s beard” ;* and he had risen te the height of 
his glory as second in command of the great fleet 
which had discomfited the Armada, one of whose 
largest vessels was known to have surrendered to the 
terror of his name alone. In Spain, where he was as 
much hated as he was feared, he was regarded chiefly 
as a bold and successful buccaneer, whose melancholy 


*2 La Hermosura de Angélica was 
printed for the first time in 1604, says 
the editor of the Obras, in Tom, II. 
But Salva gives an edition in 1602. It 
certainly appeared at Barcelona in 1605. 
The stanzas where proper names occur 
so often as to prove that Lope was guilty 
of the affectation of taking pains to 


accumulate them are to be found in 
Obras, Tom. II. pp. 27, 55, 233, 236, etc. 

48 “Considerations touching a War 
with Spain, inscribed to Prince Charles,” 
1624 ; a curious specimen of the polit- 
ical discussions of the time. See Bacon’s 
Works, London, 1810, 8vo, Vol. III. 
p. 517. 


202 THE DRAGONTEA. (Perrop II. 


death at Panama, in 1596, was held to be a just visita- 
tion of the Divine vengeance for his piracies ;—a 
state of feeling of which the popular literature 
*of the country, down to its very ballads, 
affords frequent proof 

The Dragontea, however, whose ten cantos of oc- 
tave verse are devoted to the expression of this na- 
tional hatred, may be regarded as its chief monument. 
It is a strange poem. It begins with the prayers of 
Christianity, in the form of a beautiful woman, who 
presents Spain, Italy, and America in the court of 
Heaven, and prays God to protect them all against 
what Lope calls “that Protestant Scotch pirate.’*® It 
ends with rejoicings in Panama because “ the Dragon,” 
as he is called through the whole poem, has died, 
poisoned by his own people, and with the thanksgivings 
of Christianity that her prayers have been heard, and 
that “the scarlet lady of Babylon’? — meaning Queen 
Elizabeth — had been at last defeated. The substance 
of the poem is such as may beseem such an opening 


i Sil 


#4 Mariana, Historia, ad an. 1596, 
calls him simply ‘‘ Francis Drake, an 
English corsair’ ;—- and in a graceful 
little anonymous ballad, imitated from 
a more graceful one by Gdéngora, we 
have again a true expression of the 
popular feeling. The ballad in ques- 
tion, beginning ‘‘ Hermano Perico,” is 
in the Romancero General, 1602, (f. 34, ) 
and contains the following significant 
passage : — 

And Bartolo, my brother, 

To England forth is gone, 
Where the Drake he means to kill; — 
And the Lutherans every one, 
Excommunicate from God, 
Their queen among the first, 
He will capture and bring back, 
Like heretics accurst. 

And he promises, moreover, 
Among his spoils and gains, 

A heretic young serving-boy 

To give me, bound in chains ; 
And for my lady grandmamma, 
Whose years such waiting crave 
A little handy Lutheran, 

To be her maiden slave. 


Mi hermano Bartolo 
Se va 4 Ingalaterra, 
A matar al Draque, 
Y 4 prender la Reyna, 
Y 4 los Luteranos 
De la Bandomessa. 
Tiene de traerme 

A mi de la guerra 
Un Luteranico 

Con una cadena, 

Y una Luterana 

A senora aguela. 


Romancero General, Madrid, 1602, 4to, f. 35. 


The same ballad occurs in the ‘‘ Entre- 
mes de los Romances,” in the very rare 
and curious third volume, entitled Parte 
Tercera de las Comedias de Lope de 
Vega y otros Autores, ec., Barcelona, 
1614, which, however, contains only 
three of Lope’s Plays out of its twelve. 
I found it in the Library of the Vatican, 
where there are more old Spanish books 
than is commonly supposed. 

45 He was in fact of Devonshire. See 


Fuller’s Worthies and Holy State. 


Cuar, XIII.] THE PEREGRINO EN SU PATRIA. 203 


and such a conclusion. It is violent and coarse 
throughout. But although it appeals constantly to 
the national prejudices that prevailed in its author’s 
time with great intensity, it was not received with 
favor. It was written in 1597, immediately after the 
occurrence of most of the events to which it alludes ; 
but was not published till 1604,and has been 
printed since *only in the collected edition of *172 
Lope’s ‘miscellaneous works, in 1776.% 

In the same year, however, in which he gave the 
Dragontea to the world, he published a prose romance, 
“The Pilgrim in his own Country”; dedicating it to 
the Marquis of Priego, on the last day of 1603, from 
the city of Seville. It contains the story of two 
lovers, who, after many adventures in Spain and Portu- 
gal, are carried into captivity among the Moors, and 
return home by the way of Italy, as pilgrims. We 
first find them at Barcelona, shipwrecked, and the 
principal scenes are laid there and in Valencia and 
Saragossa ;— the whole ending in the city of Toledo, 
where, with the assent of. their friends, they are af 
last married.” Several episodes are ingeniously inter 
woven with the thread of the principal narrative, and. 
besides many poems chiefly written, no doubt, for other 
occasions, several religious dramas are inserted, which 
seem actually to have been performed under the cir 
cumstances described.* 


6 There is a curious poem in Eno- 
lish, by Charles Fitzgeffrey, on the 
Life and Death of Sir Francis Drake, 
first printed in 1596, which is worth 
comparing with the Dragontea, as its 
opposite, and which was better liked in 
England in its time than Lope’s poem 
was In Spain, See Wood’s Athen», 
London, 1815, 4to, Vol. II. p. 607. 
Pacheco, in a notice of Lope, printed 
in 1609, — five years after the appear- 
ance of the Dragontea, — calls it, ‘‘ El 


mas ignorado de sus libros.” Obras 
Sueltas, Tom. XIV. p. xxxii. 

47 The time of the story is 1598 —99, 
when Philip III. was married. 

48 At the end of the whole, it is said, 
that, during the eight nights following 
the wedding, eight other dramas were 
acted, whose names are given; two of 
which, ‘‘ El Perseguido,” and *‘ El Ga- 
lan Agradecido,” do not appear among 
Lope’s printed plays ;—at least, not 
under these titles. 


204 [Periop IT. 


THE JERUSALEN CONQUISTADA. 


The entire romance is divided into five books, and 
is carefully constructed and finished. Some of Lope’s 
own experiences at Valencia and elsewhere evidently 
contributed materials for it; but a poetical coloring 
is thrown over the whole, and except in some of the 
details about the city, and descriptions of natural 
scenery, we rarely feel that what we read is absolutely 
true.® The story, especially when regarded from the 

point of view chosen by its author, is interest- 
*173 img; and it is not-only one of the * earliest 

specimens in:Spanish literature of the class to 
which it belongs, but one of the best.” 

Passing over some of his minor poems and his “ New 
Art of Writing Plays,” for noticing both of which more 
appropriate occasions will occur hereafter, we come to 
another of Lope’s greater efforts, his “Jerusalem Con- 
quered,” which appeared in 1609, and was twice re- 
printed in the course of the next ten years. He calls 
it “a tragic epic,’ and divides it into twenty books of 
octave rhymes, comprehending, when taken together, 


49 Among the passages that have the 
strongest air of reality about them are 
those relating to the dramas, said to 
have been acted in different places; and 
those containing descriptions of Mon- 
serrate and of the environs of Valencia, 
in the first and second books. A sort 
of ghost-story, in the fifth, seems also 
to have been founded on fact. 

50 The first edition of the ‘‘ Peregrino 
en su Patria” is that of Seville, 1604, 
4to, and it was soon reprinted ; but the 
best edition is that in the fifth volume 
of the Obras Sueltas, 1776. A worth- 
less abridgment of it in English ap- 
peared anonymously in London in 1738, 
12mo. A German translation, also 
much abridged and leaving out the 
poetry and dramas, —in short, omit- 
ting the part of Hamlet, —was pub- 
lished at Aachen, (1824, 12mo, pp. 
235,) and entitled ‘‘Der Pilger, etc., 
tibersetzt von C. Richard,” a person 
who had served, I believe, in the Pe- 


ninsular war of 1808-14, and who also . 


translated Lope’s Arcadia, his Dorotea, 
and some of his Novelas. A notice of 
Richard and his translations may be 
found in the ‘‘ Kritische Bemerkungen 
iiber Kastilische und Portugiesische 
Literatur, von Alvaro August Liagno,” 
(1829-30, 8vo,) written to encourage 
the publication by Mayer, a bookseller 
in Aix la Chapelle, of the principal 
Spanish authors ;—a spirited under- 
taking, which was continued far enough 
to carry through the press Garcilasso ; 
Melo’s Guerra de Cataluiia ; Guevara’s 
Diablo Cojuelo ; Mendoza’s Lazarillo ; 
Polo’s Diana ; Tomé de Burguillos, and 
most of the works of Cervantes. Some 
of the notices by Liagno, in these tracts, 
are curious, but in general they are of 
little worth. His ‘‘ Répertoire de l’His- 
toire et de la Littérature Espagnole et 
Portugaise,” (Berlin, [1820,]} 8vo,) is 
yet worse. He seems to have been a 
disappointed man, and to have carried 
the unhappy temper of his life into his 
books. 


Cuar, XIII.] THE JERUSALEN CONQUISTADA. 205 


above twenty-two thousand verses. The attempt was 
certainly an ambitious one, since we see, on its very 
face, that it is nothing less than to rival Tasso on the 
ground where Tasso’s success had been so brilliant. 

As might have been foreseen, Lope failed. His very 
subject is unfortunate, for it is not the conquest of 
Jerusalem by the Christians, but the failure of Coeur 
de Lion to rescue it from the infidels in the end of the 
twelfth century, — a theme evidently unfit for a Chris- 
tian epic. All the poet could do, therefore, was to 
take the series of events as he found them in history, 
and, adding such episodes and ornaments as his own 
genius could furnish, give to the whole as much as 
possible of epic form, dignity, and completeness. But 
Lope has not done even this. He has made merely a 
long narrative poem, of which Richard is the 
hero; and he relies for success, in no *small *174 
degree, on the introduction of a sort of rival 
hero, in the person of Alfonso the Eighth of Castile, 
who, with his knights, is made, after the fourth book, 
to occupy a space in the foreground of the action 
quite disproportionate and absurd, since it is certain 
that Alfonso was never in Palestine at ‘all’ What 
is equally inappropriate, the real subject of the poem 
is ended in the eighteenth book, by the return home 
of both Richard and Alfonso; the nineteenth being 
filled with the Spanish king’s subsequent history, and 
the twentieth with the imprisonment of Richard and 
the quiet death of Saladin, as master of Jerusalem, — 


61 Lope insists, on all occasions, upon 
the fact of Alfonso’s having been in the 
Crusades. For instance, in ‘‘ La Boba 
para los otros,” (Comedias, Tom. XXI., 
Madrid, 1635, f. 60,) he says : — 


To this crusade 
There went together France and England’s 


owers, 
And our own King Alfonso. 


But the whole is a mere fiction of 
the age succeeding that of Alfonso, for 
using which Lope is justly rebuked 
by Navarrete, in his acute essay on 
the part the Spaniards took in the 
Crusades. Memorias de la Acade- 
mia de la Hist., Tom. V., 1817, 4to, 
p. 87. 


206 THE JERUSALEN CONQUISTADA. ([Pertop II. 


a conclusion so abrupt and unsatisfactory, that it seems 
as if its author could hardly have originally foreseen it. 
But though, with the exception of what relates to 
the apocryphal Spanish adventurers, the series of his- 
torical events in that brillant crusade is followed down 
with some regard to the truth of fact, still we are 
so much confused by the visions and allegorical 
personages mingled in the narrative, and by the mani- 
fold episodes and love-adventures which interrupt it, 
that it is all but impossible to read any considerable 
portion consecutively and with attention. Lope’s easy 
and graceful versification is, indeed, to be found here, 
as 1t is in nearly all his poetry; but even on the holy 
ground of chivalry, at Cyprus, Ptolemais, and Tyre, his 
narrative has much less movement and life than we 
might claim from its subject, and almost everywhere 
else it is languid and heavy. Of plan, proportions, or 
a skilful adaptation of the several parts so as to form 
an epic whole, there is no thought; and yet Lope inti- 
mates that his poem was written with care 
*175 some time before it was published,” * and he 
dedicates it to his king, in a tone indicating 
that he thought it by no means unworthy the royal 
favor. 


52 See the Prdlogo. The whole poem 
is in Obras Sueltas, Tom. XIV. and XV. 
He always liked it. Before it was pub- 
lished, he says, in a letter to the Duke 
of Sessa, dated September 38, 1605, 
when he thought he might print it 
very soon: ‘‘I wrote it in my best 
years, and with a different purpose 


from that of other works written in 
my youth, when the passions have more 
power.” Schack, Nachtrage, 1854, p. 
33. Note that the Duke’s name is 
sometimes spelled with a double s as it 
is here, and sometimes with a single 
one, — Sesa. 


MO AE ER. ORs ne UES 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED. — HIS RELATIONS WITH THE CHURCH.—HIS PAS 
TORES DE BELEN.—HIS RELIGIOUS POEMS. — HIS CONNECTION WITH THE 
FESTIVALS AT THE BEATIFICATION AND CANONIZATION OF SAN ISIDRO. — 
TOME DE BURGUILLOS.—LA GATOMACHIA.—AN AUTO DE FE.—TRIUNFOS 
DIVINOS. — POEM ON MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.— LAUREL DE APOLO. — 
DOROTEA. — HIS OLD AGE AND DEATH. 


Just at the time the Jerusalem was published, Lope 
began to wear the livery of his Church. Indeed, it is 
on the title-page of this very poem that he, for the 
first time, announces himself as a “ Familiar of the 
Holy Inquisition.” Proofs of the change in his life 
are soon apparent in his works. In 1612, he published 
“The Shepherds of Bethlehem,’ a long pastoral in 
prose and verse, divided into five books. It contains 
the sacred history, according to the more popular tra- 
ditions of the author’s Church, from the birth of Mary, 
the Saviour’s mother, to the arrival of the holy family 
in Egypt,—all supposed to be related or enacted by 
shepherds in the neighborhood of Bethlehem, at the 
time the events occurred. 

Like the other prose pastorals written at the same 
period, it is full of incongruities. Some of the poems, 
in particular, are as inappropriate and in as bad taste 
as can well be conceived; and why three or four poet- 
ical contests for prizes, and several common Spanish 
games, are introduced at all, it is not easy to Imagine, 
since they are permitted by the conditions of no possi- 
ble poetical theory for such fictions. But it must be 
confessed, on the other hand, that there runs through 
the whole an air of amenity and gentleness well suited 


208 THE PASTORES DE BELEN. [Perron II. 


to its subject and purpose. Several stories from 
*177 the Old Testament are gracefully * told, and 

translations from the Psalms and other parts of 
the Jewish Scriptures are brought in with a happy 
effect. Some of the original poetry, too, is to be placed 
among the best of Lope’s minor compositions ; — such 
as the following imaginative little song, which 1s sup- 
posed to have been sung in a palm-grove, by the Ma- 
donna, to her sleeping child, and is as full of the tender- 
est feelings of Catholic devotion as one of Murillo’s 
pictures on the same subject : — 


Holy angels and blest, 

Through these palms as ye sweep 
Hold their branches at rest, 

For my babe is asleep. 


And ye Bethlehem palm-trees, 
As stormy winds rush 
In tempest and fury, 
Your angry noise hush ;— 
Move gently, move gently, 
Restrain your wild sweep ; 
Hold your branches at rest, — 
My babe is asleep. 


My babe all divine, 
With earth’s sorrows oppressed, 
Seeks in slumber an instant 
His grievings to rest ; 
He slumbers, — he slumbers, — 
O, hush, then, and keep 
Your branches all still, — 
My babe is asleep! 


Cold blasts wheel about him, — 
A rigorous storm, — 
And ye see how, in vain, 
I would shelter his form ; — 
Holy angels and blest, 
As above me ye sweep, 
Hold these branches at rest, — 
My babe is asleep! 1 
3 Pues andais en las palmas, Palmas de Belen, 
Angeles santos, Que mueven ayrados 


Que se duerme mi nino, Los furiosos vientos, 
Tened los ramos. Que suenan tanto, 


Cuar, XIV.] MISCELLANIES. 209 


*The whole work is dedicated with great * 178 
tenderness, in a few simple words, to Carlos, 
the little son that died before he was seven years old, 
and of whom Lope always speaks so lovingly. But it 
breaks off abruptly, and was never finished ;— why, 
it is not easy to tell, for it was well received, and was 
printed four times In as many years. 

In 1612, the year of the publication of this pas- 
toral, Lope printed a few religious ballads and some 
“Thoughts in Prose,’ which he pretended were trans- 
lated from the Latin of Gabriel Padecopeo, an imper- 
fect anagram of his own name; and in 1614, there 
appeared a volume containing, first, a collection of his 
short sacred poems, to which were afterwards added 
four solemn and striking poetical Soliloquies, composed 
while he knelt before a cross on the day he was re- 
ceived into the Society of Penitents; then two con- 
templative discourses, written at the request of his 
brethren of the same society; and finally, a short 
spiritual Romancero, or ballad-book, and a“ Via Crucis,” 
or meditations on the passage of the Saviour from the 
judgment-seat of Pilate to the hill of Calvary.’ 

Many of these poems are full of a deep and solemn 
devotion ;? others are strangely coarse and free ;* and a 
few are merely whimsical and trifling.’ Some of the 
more religious of the ballads are still sung about the 


No le hagais ruido, Angeles divinos, 


Corred mas passo; _ Que vais volando, 

Que se duerme mi nino, Que se duerme mi nito, 

Tened los ramos. Tened los ramos. 

) 

El niio divino, Obras Sueltas, Tom. XVI. p. 382. 

Que esta cansado 2 

De llorar en la tierra: 8 Obras, Tom. XIII., etc. ee 

Por su descanso, For instance, the sonnet beginning, 

Sosegar quiere un poco ‘*Yo dormiré en el polvo.” Obras, 

Del tierno llanto ; Tom. XIII 186 

Que se duerme mi niio, 4c ; es tS ee ee , 

Tened los ramos. Such as *‘ Gertrudis siendo Dios tan 
amoroso.” Obras, Tom. XIII. p. 223. 
Rigurosos hielos 5 Some of them are very flat ;— see 
ae erennce, the sonnet, ‘‘ Quand tu al d 
Ya veis que no tengo tay? } oO en tu alcazar Qe 

Con que guardarlo : Sion.” Obras, Tom. XIII. p. 225. 


VOL. II. 14 


210 THE FIRST FESTIVAL OF SAN ISIDRO. [Penton II. 


streets of Madrid by blind beggars;—a_ testimony 
to the devout feelings which, occasionally at least, 
glowed in their author's heart, that is not to be mis- 
taken. These poems, however, with an account of the 
martyrdom of a considerable number of Christians at 

Japan, in 1614, which was printed four years 
*179 later,® were all the miscellaneous works * pub- 

lished by Lope between 1612 and 1620 ;—the 
rest of his time during this period having apparently 
been filled with his brilliant successes in the drama, 
both secular and sacred. 

But in 1620 and 1622, he had an opportunity to ex- 
hibit himself to the mass of the people, as well as to 
the court, at Madrid, in a character which, being both 
religious and dramatic, was admirably suited to his 
powers and pretensions. It was the double occasion 
of the beatification and the canonization of Saint 
Isidore, in whose honor, above twenty years earlier, 
Lope had made one of his most successful efforts for 
popularity,—a long interval, but one during which 
the claims of the Saint had been by no means over- 
looked. On the contrary, the king, from the time 
of his restoration to health, had been constantly so- 
licitng the honors of the Church for a personage to 
whose miraculous interposition he believed himself 
to owe it. At last they were granted, and the 19th of | 
May, 1620, was appointed for celebrating the beatifi- 
cation of the pious “‘ Ploughman of Madrid.” 

Such occasions were now often seized in the princi- 
pal cities of Spain, as a means alike of exhibiting the 
talents of their poets, and amusing and interesting the 
multitude ;—the Church: gladly contributing its au- 
thority to substitute, as far as possible, a sort of poeti- 


6 Triumfo de la Fé en los Reynos del Japon. Obras, Tom. XVII. 


Cuar. XIV.] THE FIRST FESTIVAL OF SAN ISIDRO. 211] 


cal tournament, held under its own management, for 
the chivalrous tournaments which had for centuries 
exercised so great and so irreligious an _ influence 
throughout Europe. At any rate, these literary con- 
tests, in which honors and prizes of various kinds were 
offered, were called “ Poetical Joustings,’ and early 
became favorite entertainments with the mass of the 
people. We have already noticed such festivals, as 
early as the end of the fifteenth century; and besides 
the prize which, as we have seen, Cervantes gained at 
Saragossa in May, 1595,’ Lope gained one at Toledo, 
in June, 1608;° and in September, 1614, he was the 
judge at a poetical festival in honor of the 
*beatification of Saint Theresa, at Madrid, 
where the rich tones of his voice and his grace- 
ful style of reading were much admired.’ 

The occasion of the beatification of the Saint who 
presided over the fortunes of Madrid was, however, 
one of more solemn importance than either of these 
had been. All classes of the inhabitants of that “He- 
roic Town,” as it is still called, took an interest in it; 


is Bole 


ridicule. Inthe ‘‘Caballero Descortes” 


7 See ante, Vol. I. p. 305, and Vol. 
of Salas Barbadillo, (Madrid, 1621, 


II. p. 114. 


8 The successful poem, a jesting bal- 
lad of very small merit, is in the Obras 
Sueltas, Tom. XXI. pp. 171-177. 

9 An account of some of the poetical 
joustings of this yond is to be found 
in Navarrete, ‘‘ Vida de Cervantes,” 
§ 162, with the notes, p. 486, and in 
the Spanish translation of this History, 
Tom. III. pp. 527-529. I have seen 
many of them and read a few. They 
have almost no value. A good illustra- 
tion of the mode in which they were 
conducted is to be found in the ‘‘ Justa 
Poética,” in honor of Our Lady of the 
Pillar at Saragossa, collected by Juan 
Bautista Felices de Caceres, (Caragoca, 
1629, 4to,) in which Joseph de Valdi- 
vielso and Vargas Machuca figured. 
Such joustings became so frequent at 
last, and so poor, as to be subjects of 


12:no, f. 99, etc.,) there is a certémen 
in honor of the recovery of a lost hat ; 
—merely a light caricature. In an- 
other of his satirical works, (La Esta- 
feta del Dios Momo, 1627,) which is 
a collection of letters in ridicule of ex- 
travagances and extravagant people, 
Barbadillo speaks, in Epistola XVII., 
of a shoemaker who set up to have a 
certdémen, and offered prizes for it. 
Sometimes, however, they were very 
devout. One on the canonization of 
San Pedro de Alcantara in 1670 is emi- 
nently such, consisting mainly of six- 
teen sermons appended to the poetical 
honors of the occasion. It was prepared 
by Antonio de Huerta and makes four 
hundred and forty-five pages, under the 
title of Triumfos Gloriosos, ec. There 
could hardly be a more dull book. 


212 


THE FIRST FESTIVAL OF SAN ISIDRO. [Penton II. 


for it was believed to concern the well-being of all.” 
The Church of Saint Andrew, in which reposed the 
body of the worthy Ploughman, was ornamented with 
unwonted splendor. The merchants of the city com- 
pletely encased its altars with plain, but pure silver. 
The goldsmiths enshrined the form of the Saint, which 
five centuries had not wasted away, in a sarcopha- 
gus of the same metal, elaborately wrought. Other 
classes brought other offerings; all marked by the gor- 
geous wealth that then flowed through the privileged 
portions of Spanish society, from the mines of Peru 
and Mexico. In front of the church a showy stage 
was erected, from which the poems sent in for prizes 
were read, and over this part of the ceremonies Lope 
presided. 

* As a sort of prologue, a few satirical peti- 
tions were produced, which were intended to 
excite merriment, and, no doubt, were successful ; 
after which Lope opened the literary proceedings of 
the festival, by pronouncing a poetical oration of above 
seven hundred lines in honor of San Isidro. This was 
followed by reading the subjects for the nine prizes 
offered by the nine Muses, together with the rules 
according to which the honors of the occasion were to 
be adjudged; and then came the poems themselves. 
Among the competitors were many of the principal 
men of letters of the time: Zarate, Guillen de Castro, 


TOL 


10 The details of the festival, with 
the poems offered on the occasion, were 
neatly printed at Madrid, in 1620, in a 
small quarto, ff. 140, and fill about 
three hundred pages in the eleventh 
volume of Lope’s Works. The number 
of poetical offerings was great, but much 
short of what similar contests some- 
times produced. Figueroa says in his 
“*Passagero,” (Madrid, 1617, 12mo, f. 
118,) that, at a usta in Madrid a short 
time before, to honor St. Antonio of 


Padua, five thousand poems of different 
kinds were offered; which, after the 
best of them had been hung round the 
church and the cloisters of the monks 
who originally proposed the prizes, were 
distributed to other monasteries. The 
custom extended to America. In 1585, 
Balbuena carried away a prize in Mex- 
ico from three hundred competitors. 
See his Life, prefixed to the Academy’s 
edition of his ‘‘Siglo de Oro,” Madrid, 
1821, 8vo. 


Cuar. XIV.] THE SECOND FESTIVAL OF SAN ISIDRO. 213 


Jauregui, Espmnel, Montalvan, Pantaleon, Silveira, the 
young Calderon, and Lope himself, with the son who 
bore his name, still a boy. All this, or nearly all of it, 
was grave, and beseeming the grave occasion. But at 
the end of the list of those who entered their claims 
for each prize, there always appeared a sort of masque, 
who, under the assumed name of Master Burguillos, 
“seasoned the feast in the most savory manner,” it is 
said, with his amusing verses, caricaturing the whole, 
like the gracioso of the popular theatre, and serving as 
a kind of interlude after each division of the more 
regular drama. 

Lope took hardly any pains to conceal that this 
savory part of the festival was entirely his own; so 
surely had his theatrical instincts dicated to him the 
merry relief its introduction would give to the state- 
liness and solemnity of the occasion.” All the various 
performances were read by him with much effect, and 
at the end he gave a light and pleasant account, in the 
old popular ballad measure, of whatever had been 
done; after which the judges pronounced the names 
of the successful competitors. Who they were, we are 
not told; but the offerings of all — those of the un- 
successful as well as of the successful— were published 
by him without delay. 

*A greater jubilee followed two years after- * 182 
wards, when, at the opening of the reign of 
Philip the Fourth, the negotiations of his grateful pred- 
ecessor were crowned with a success he did not live 


11 «But let the reader note well,” 
says Lope, ‘‘ that the verses of Master 
Burguillos must be supposititious ; for 
he did not appear at the contest; and 
all he wrote is in jest, and made the 
festival very savory. And as he did 
not appear for any prize, it was gener- 
ally believed that he was a character 


introduced by Lope himself.” Obras, 
Tom. XI. p. 401. See also p. 598. 
Rosell (Bib. de Rivadeneyra, XXXVIII., 
Prologo, xvi, note) says that poems at- 
tributed to Tomé de Burguillos, but in 
the autograph of Lope, are in possession 
of the Marquis de Pidal. 


214 THE SECOND FESTIVAL OF SAN ISIDRO. [Perron II. 


to witness; and San Isidro, with three other devout 
Spaniards, was admitted by the Head of the Church at 
Rome to the full glories of saintship, by a formal 
canonization. The people of Madrid took little note of 
the Papal bull, except so far as it concerned their own 
particular saint and protector. But to him the honors 
they offered were abundant.” The festival they insti- 
tuted for the occasion lasted nine days. Hight pyr- 
amids, above seventy feet high, were arranged in 
different parts of the city, and nine magnificent altars, 
. acastle, a rich garden, and a temporary theatre. All 
the houses of the better sort were hung with gorgeous 
tapestry ; religious processions, in which the principal 
nobility took the meanest places, swept through the 
streets; and bull-fights, always the most popular of 
Spanish entertainments, were added, in which above 
two thousand of those noble animals were sacrificed in 
amphitheatres or public squares open freely to all. 

As a part of the show, a great literary contest or 
jousting was held on the 19th of May, — exactly 
two years after that held at the beatification. Again 
Lope appeared on the stage in front of the same 
Church of Saint Andrew, and, with similar ceremonies 
and a similar admixture of the somewhat broad farce 
of Tomé de Burguillos, most of the leading poets of 
the time joined in the universal homage. Lope car-. 
ried away the principal prizes. Others were given to 
Zarate, Calderon, Montalvan, and Guillen de Castro. 
Two plays — one on the childhood and the other on 
the youth of San Isidro, but both expressly ordered 
from Lope by the city — were acted on open, movable 
stages, before the king, the court, and the multitude, 

12 The proceedings and poems of this 1622, ff. 156, and fill Tom. XII. of the. 


second great festival were printed at Obras Sueltas, 
once at Madrid, in a quarto volume, 


Cnar. XIV.] THE GATOMACHIA. 215 


making their author the most prominent figure of a 
festival which, rightly understood, goes far to 
explain the spirit of the times and of *the *183 
religion on which it all depended. An account 

of the whole, comprehending the poems offered on the 
occasion, and his own two plays, was published by 
Lope before the close of the year. 

His success at these two jubilees was, no doubt, very 
flattermg to him. It had been of the most public kind; 
it had been on a very popular subject; and it had, per- 
haps, brought him more into the minds and thoughts 
of the great mass of the people, and into the active 
interests of the time, than even his success in the the- 
atre. The caricatures of Tomé de Burguillos, in par- 
ticular, though often rude, seem to have been received 
with extraordinary favor. Later, therefore, he was in- 
duced to write more verses in the same style; and, in 
1634, he published a volume, consisting almost wholly 
of humorous and burlesque poems, under the same 
disguise. Most of the pieces it contains are sonnets 
and other short poems;— some very sharp and satir- 
ical, and nearly all fluent and happy. But one of 
them is of considerable length, and should be sepa- 
rately noticed. 

It isa mock-heroic, in irregular verse, divided into six 
sivas or cantos, and is called “La Gatomachia,’ or the 
Battle of the Cats; being a contest between two cats 
for the love of a third. Like nearly all the poems of 
the class to which it belongs, from the “ Batrachomyo- 
machia ” downwards, it is too long. It contains about 
twenty-five hundred lines, in various measures. But 
if it is not the first in the Spanish language in the 
order of time, it is the first in the order of merit. The 
last two sivas, in particular, are written with great 


216 


VARIOUS MISCELLANIES. {Pertop IT. 


lightness and spirit ; sometimes parodying Ariosto and 
the epic poets, and sometimes the old ballads, with the 
gayest success. From its first appearance, therefore, it 
has been a favorite in Spain; and it is now, probably, 
more read than any other of its author’s miscellaneous 
works. An edition printed in 1794 assumes, rather 
than attempts to prove, that Tomé de Burguillos was a 
real personage. But few persons have ever been of 
this opinion; for though, when it first appeared, Lope 

prefixed to it one of those accounts concerning 
*184 its pretended author that deceive * nobody, 

yet he had, as early as the first festival in hon- 
or of San Isidro, almost directly declared Master Bur- 
cuillos to be merely a disguise for himself and a means 
of adding interest to the occasion, —a fact, mdeed, 
plainly intimated by Quevedo in the Approbation pre- 
fixed to the volume, and by Coronel in the verses 
which immediately follow.? 

In 1621, just in the mterval between the two festi- 
vals, Lope published a volume containing the “ Filo- 
mena,” a poem, m the first canto of which he gives 
the mythological story of Tereus and the Nightingale, 
and in the second, a vindication of himself, under the 
allegory of the Nightingale’s Defence against the Hn- 
vious Thrush. To this he added, in the same volume, 
“ La Tapada,”’ a description, in octave verse, of a coun- 
try-seat of the Duke of Braganza in Portugal; the 


18 The edition which claims a sepa- 
rate and real existence for Burguillos is 
that found in the seventeenth volume 
of the ‘‘ Poestas Castellanas,” collected 
by Fernandez and others. But, be- 
sides the passages from Lope himself 
cited in a preceding note, Quevedo 
says, in an Aprobacion to the very vol- 
ume in question, that ‘‘the style is 
such as has been seen only in the writ- 
ings of Lope de Vega”; and Coronel, 
in some décimas prefixed to it, adds, 


‘** These verses are dashes from the pen 
of the Spanish Phenix”; hints which 
it would have been dishonorable for 
Lope himself to publish, unless the 
poems were really his own. The po- 
etry of Burguillos is im Tom. XIX. of 
the Obras Sueltas, just as Lope origi- 
nally published it in 1634. There isa 
spirited German translation of the Ga- 
tomachia in Bertuch’s Magazin der . 
Span. und Port. Literatur, Dessau, 
1781, 8ve, Tom. I. 


Cnar. XIV.) VARIOUS MISCELLANIES. Al by 


“ Andromeda,’ a mythological story like the Filomena; 
“ The Fortunes of Diana,” the first prose tale he ever 
printed ; several poetical epistles and smaller poems; 
and a correspondence on the subject of the New Po- 
etry, as it was called, in which he boldly attacked the 
_ school of Gongora, then at the height of its favor. 
The whole volume added nothing to its author’s per- 
manent reputation; but parts of it, and especially pas- 
sages in the epistles and in the Filomena, are interest- 
ing from the circumstance that they contain allusions 
to his own personal history. 

* Another volume, not unlike the last, fol- *185 
lowed in 1624. It contains three poems in the 
octave stanza: “ Circe,” an unfortunate amplification of 
the well-known story found in the Odyssey; “The 
Morning of Saint John,” on the popular celebration 
of that graceful festival in the time of Lope; anda 
fable on the Origin of the White Rose. To these he 
added several epistles in prose and verse, and three 
more prose tales, which, with the one already men- 
tioned, constitute all the short prose fictions he ever 
published in a separate form.” 

The best part of this volume is, no doubt, the three 
stories. Probably Lope was induced to write them by 
the success of those of Cervantes, which had now 
been published eleven years, and were already known 
throughout Europe. But Lope’s talent seems not to 


14 The poems are in Tom. II. of the® style then in fashion, to please the 
Obras Sueltas. The discussion about popular taste, he continued to disap- 
the new poetry is in Tom. IV. pp. prove it to the last. The Novela is in 
459-482; to which should be added Obras, Tom. VIII. There is, also, a 


some trifles in the same vein, scattered 
through his Works, and especially a son- 
net beginning, ‘‘ Boscan, tarde llega- 
mos” ;— which, as it was printed by 
him with the ‘‘Laurel de Apolo,” 
(1630, f. 123,) shows, that, though he 
himself sometimes wrote in the affected 


sonnet in the Dorotea in ridicule of 
Cultismo, beginning, ‘‘ Pululando de 
culto, Claudio amigo,” which should 
be noticed. 

15 The three poems are in Tom. III. ; 
the epistles in Tom. I. pp. 279, etc. ; 
and the three tales in Tom. VIII. 


é 


218 LOPE DE VEGA AN INQUISITOR.  [Periop II. 


have been more adapted to this form of composition 
than that of the author of Don Quixote was to the 
drama. Of this he seems to have been partially aware 
himself; for he says of the first tale, that it was written to 
please a lady in a department of letters where he never 
thought to have adventured, and the other three are 
addressed to the same person, and appear to have been 
written with the same feelings.° None of them excited 
much attention at the time when they appeared. But, 
twenty years afterwards, they were reprinted with four 
others, torn, apparently, from some connected series 
of similar stories, and certainly not the work of Lope. 
The last of the eight is the best of the collection, 
though it ends awkwardly, with an intimation that 
another is to follow; and all are thrust together into 
the complete edition of Lope’s miscellaneous works, 
though there is no pretence for claiming any of them 
to be his, except the first four.” 

* In the year preceding the appearance of the 
tales we find him in a new character. A miser- 
able man, a Franciscan monk, from Catalonia, was sus- 
pected of heresy ; and the suspicion fell on him the 
more heavily because his mother was of the Jewish 
faith. Having been, in consequence of this, expelled 
successively from two religious houses of which he had | 
been a member, he seems to have become disturbed 
in his mind, and at last grew so frantic, that, while 
mass was celebrating in open church, he seized the 


* 186 


16 Obras Sueltas, Tom. VIII. p. 2; 
also Tom. III. Preface. It is to the 
credit of Cerda y Rico, that, when he 
published these tales of Lope de Vega, 
he said that the best in the language 
are those of Cervantes, and that Lope 
succeeds in proportion as he approaches 
them. Tom. VIII. Prologo, p. vi. 

lv There are editions of the eight at 


Saragossa, (1648, ) Barcelona, (1650, ) ete. 
There is some confusion about a part of 
the poems published originally with 
these tales, and which appear among 
the works of Fr. Lopez de Zarate, Al- 
cala, 1651, 4to. (See Lope, Obras, 
Tom. III. p. iii.) But such things are 
not very rare in Spanish literature, and 
will occur again in relation to Zarate. 


Cuapr. XIV.] LOPE DE VEGA AN INQUISITOR. 219 


consecrated host from the hands of the officiating priest 
and violently destroyed it. He was at once arrested 
and given up to the Inquisition. The Inquisition, find- 
ing him obstinate, declared him to be a Lutheran and 
a Calvinist, and, adding to this the crime of his Hebrew 
descent, delivered him over to the secular arm for 
punishment. He was, almost as a matter of course, 
ordered to be burned alive; and in January, 1623, the 
sentence was literally executed outside the gate of 
Alcala at Madrid. The excitement was great, as it 
always was on such occasions. An immense concourse 
of people was gathered to witness the edifying spec- 
tacle; the court was present; the theatres and public 
shows were suspended for a fortnight; and we are told 
that Lope de Vega, who, in some parts of his “ Dragon- 
tea,’ shows a spirit not unworthy of such an office, was 
one of those who presided at the loathsome sacrifice 
and directed its ceremonies.” 

His fanaticism, however, in no degree diminished 
his zeal for poetry. In 1625, he published his “ Divine 
Triumphs,” a poem in five cantos, in the measure and 
the manner of Petrarch, beginning with the triumphs 
of “ the Divine Pan,” and ending with those of Religion 
and the Cross.” It was a failure, and the more obviously 
so, because its very title placed it in direct contrast 
with the “Trionfi” of the great Italian master. It 
was accompanied, in the same volume, by a small 
collection * of sacred poetry, which wasincreased * 187 
in later editions until it became a large one. 

Some of it is truly tender and solemn, as, for instance, 

18 The account is found in a MS. death. It is eited, and an abstract of 
history of Madrid, by Leon Pinelo, in it given, in Casiano Pellicer, ‘‘ Origen 
the King’s Library ; and so much as_ de las Comedias,” (Madrid, 1804, 12mo,) 
relates to this subject I possess, as well Tom. I. pp. 104, 105. 


as a notice of Lope himself, given in 19 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XIII. 
the same MS. under the date of his 


220 THE CORONA TRAGICA. [Periop II. 


the cancion on the death of his son,” and the sonnet on 
his own death, beginning, “I must lie down and slum- 
ber in the dust”’; while other parts, like the vzlancicos 
to the Holy Sacrament, are written with unseemly 
levity, and are even sometimes coarse and sensual.” 
All, however, are specimens of what respectable and 
cultivated Spaniards in that age called religion. 

A similar remark may be made in relation to the 
“Corona Tragica,’ The Tragic Crown, which he pub- 
lished in 1627, on the history and fate of the unhappy 
Mary of Scotland, who had perished just forty years 
before.* It is intended to be a religious epic, and fills 
five books of octave stanzas. But it is, in fact, merely 
a specimen of intolerant controversy. Mary is repre- 
sented as a pure and glorious martyr to the Catholic 
faith, while Elizabeth is alternately called a Jezebel 
and an Athaliah, whom it was a doubtful merit in 
Philip the Second to have spared, when, as king-con- 
sort of England, he had her life in his power.” In 
other respects it is a dull poem; beginning with an 
account of Mary’s previous history, as related by her- 
self to her women in prison, and ending with her death. 
But it savors throughout of its author’s sympathy with 
the religious spirit of his age and country ;—a spirit, 
it should be remembered, which made the Inquisition 
what it was. 

The Corona Tragica was, however, perhaps on this 
very account, thought worthy of being dedicated to 
Pope Urban the Eighth, who had himself written an 


20 A la Muerte de Carlos Felix, Obras, Ovando, the Maltese envoy, and pub- 
Tom. XIII. p. 365. lished at the end of the “‘ Laurel de 


21 See particularly the two beginning Apolo,” (Madrid, 1630, 4to, f. 118,) 
on pp. 413 and 423. he gives an account of this poem, and 
22 It is in Obras Sueltas, Tom. IV. says he wrote it in the country, where 
2 The atrocious passage is on p. 5. ‘‘ the soul in solitude labors more gently 


In an epistle, which he addressed to and easily” ! 


Cuap, XIV.) THE LAUREL DE APOLO. 220 


epitaph on the unfortunate Mary of Scotland, which 
Lope, in courtly phrase, declared was “ beatifying her 
in prophecy.” The flattery was well received. Urban 
sent the poet in return a complimentary letter ; 
gave him a degree of Doctor in * Divinity, and * 188 
the Cross of the Order of Saint John; and ap- 
pointed him to the honorary places of Fiscal in the 
Apostolic Chamber, and Notary of the Roman Archives. 
The measure of his ecclesiastical honors was now full. 
In 1630, he published “The Laurel of Apollo,” a 
poem somewhat like “The Journey to Parnassus” 
of Cervantes, but longer, more elaborate, and _ still 
more unsatisfactory. It describes a festival, supposed 
to have been held by the God of Poetry, on Mount 
Helicon, in April, 1628, and records the honors then 
bestowed on above three hundred Spanish poets ; — a 
number so great, that the whole account becomes 
monotonous and almost valueless, partly from the 
impossibility of drawing with distinctness or truth so 
many characters of little prominence, and partly from 
its too free praise of nearly all of them. It is divided 
into ten sivas, and contains about seven thousand 
irregular verses.* At the end, besides a few minor 
and miscellaneous poems, Lope added an eclogue, in 
seven scenes, which had been previously represented 
before the king and court with a costly magnificence 
in the theatre and a splendor in its decorations that 
show, at least, how great was the favor he enjoyed, 
when he was indulged, for so slight an offering, with 
such royal luxuries.” 


74 In Volume XXXVIII. (1856) of 
the Biblioteca de Autores Espafioles, is 
a list of all the authors mentioned by 
Lope in his ‘‘ Laurel de Apolo,” with 
bibliographical notices of their works 
that are frequently of value. The vol- 


ume itself, which consists of a selection 
from the Obras Sueltas of Lope, pub- 
lished by Cerda y Rico in twenty-one 
volumes, is well compiled by Don Cay- 
etano Rosell. 

* It is not easy to tell why these 


[Periop II. 


ye THE DOROTEA. 


The last considerable work he published was his 
“Dorotea,” a long prose romance in dialogue.” It was 
written in his youth, and, as has been already sug- 
gested, probably contains more or less of his own 
youthful adventures and feelings. But whether this 
be so or not, it was a favorite with him. He calls 
it “the most beloved of his works,” and says he has 

revised it with care and made many additions 
*189 to it in his old age.” *It was first printed 

in 1632. A moderate amount of verse is scat- 
tered through it, and there is a freshness and a reality 
in many passages that remind us constantly of its 
author’s life before he served as a soldier in the 
Armada. The hero, Fernando, is a poet, like Lope, 
who, after having been more than once in love and 
married, refuses Dorotea, the object of his first attach- 
ment, and becomes religious. There is, however, little 
plan, consistency, or final purpose in most of the mani- 
fold scenes that go to make up its five long acts; and 
it is now read only for its rich and easy prose style, 
for the glimpses it seems to give of the author’s own 
life, and for a few of its short poems, some of which 
were probably written for occasions not unlike those to 
which they are here applied. 

The last work he printed was an eclogue in honor 
of a Portuguese lady; and the last things he wrote — 
only the day before he was seized with his mortal ill- 

ness — were a short poem on the Golden Age, remark- 


later productions of Lope are put in’ in the work; not above a hundred and 


the first volume of his Miscellaneous 


Works, (1776-—1779,) butsoitis. That 
collection was made by Cerda y Rico ; 
a man of learning, though not of good 
taste or sound judgment. 

26 It fills the whole of the seventh 
volume of his Obras Sueltas. At the 
end is a collection of the proverbs used 


fifty, but very good, and chiefly taken 
from the part of Gerarda, who is an 
imitation of Celestina. 

27 «Dorotea, the posthumous child 
of my Muse, the most beloved of my 
long-protracted life, still asks the public 
light,” etc. Egloga 4 Claudio; Obras, 
Tom. IX. p. 367. 


Cuar. XIV.] ILLNESS AND DEATH OF LOPE DE VEGA. 223 


able for its vigor and harmony, and a sonnet on the 
death of a friend.” All of them are found im a collec- 
tion, consisting chiefly of a few dramas, published by 
his son-in-law, Luis de Usategui, two years after Lope’s 
death. 

But, as his life drew to a close, his religious feelings, 
mingled with a melancholy fanaticism, predominated 
more and more. Much of his poetry composed at this 
time expressed them; and at last they rose to such a 
height, that he was almost constantly in a state of ex- 
cited melancholy, or, as it was then begmning to be 
called, of hypochondria.” Early in the month of 
August, he felt himself extremely weak, and suffered 
more than ever from that sense of discourage- 
ment which was breaking * down his resources * 190 
and strength. His thoughts, however, were so 
exclusively occupied with his spiritual condition, that, 
even when thus reduced, he continued to fast, and on 
one occasion went through with a private discipline so 
cruel, that the walls of the apartment where it oc- 
curred were afterwards found sprinkled with his blood. 
From this he never recovered. He was taken ill the 
same night; and after fulfilling the offices prescribed 
by his Church with the most submissive devotion, — 


28 These three poems — curious as his 
last works—are in Tom. X. p. 198, 
and Tom. IX. pp. 2 and 10. Of the 
very rare first edition of this, the last 
eat of Lope made by himself, 

have a copy. It is entitled ‘ Filis 
Egloga a la Decima Musa, Dota Ber- 
narda Ferreira de la Cerda, Sefiora 
Portuguesa, Frei Lope Felix de Vega 
Carpio, del abito de San Juan, Afio 
1635.” It is poorly printed in duo- 
decimo and makes eleven leaves, be- 
sides the title. The lady to whom it 
is addressed is the well-known poetess 
noticed post, Chap. XXVIII. 

29 «A continued melancholy passion, 


which of late has been called hypochon- 


dria,” etc., is the description Montalvan 
gives of hisdisease. The account of hig 
last days follows it. Obras, Tom. XX. 
pp. 37, etc. ; and Baena, Hijos de Ma- 
drid, Tom. III..pp. 360-363. The 
same account of hypochondria is given 
in the last Jornada of Calderon’s ‘‘ Me- 
dico desu Honra.” Jacinta there asks, 
**Que es hipocondria?” to which Co- 
quin replies : — 

Es una enfermedad que no la habia, 
Habra dos anos, ni en el mundo era. 
Hartzenbusch places this play in 1635, 
the year of Lope’s death, and does it 
on apparently good grounds. The two 
accounts about hypochondria, therefore, 

correspond exactly.. 


224 ILLNESS AND DEATH OF LOPE DE VEGA.  [Perrop II. 


mourning that he had ever. been engaged in any occu- 
pations but such as were exclusively religious, — he 
died on the 27th of August, 1635, nearly seventy-three 
years old. 

The sensation produced by his death was such as is 
rarely witnessed, even in the case of those upon whom 
depends the welfare of nations. The Duke of Sessa, 
who was his especial patron, and to whom he left his 
manuscripts, provided for the funeral in a manner 
becoming his own wealth and rank.” It lasted nine 
days. The crowds that thronged to it were immense.” 
Three bishops officiated, and the first nobles of the 
Jand attended as mourners. Eulogies and poems fol- 
lowed on all sides, and in numbers all but incredible. 
Those written in Spain make one considerable volume, 
and end with a drama in which his apotheosis was 
brought upon the public stage. Those written in Italy 
are hardly less numerous, and fill another.” But more 
touching than any of them was the prayer of that 
much-loved daughter who had been shut up from the 
world fourteen years, that the long funeral procession 

might pass by her convent, and permit her once 
*191 *more to look on the face she so tenderly ven- 
erated; and more solemn than any was the 
mourning of the multitude, from whose dense mass 


89 See Lope’s remarkable Dedication 
of his ‘‘ Comedias,”” Tom. IX., 1618, to 
the Duque de Sessa. The Marquis of 
Pidal, a munificent patron of Spanish 
literature, and one of the most accom- 


plished scholars in the early literature 


of his country, is said to possess a con- 
siderable number of Lope’s letters to 
the Duke of Sessa, whom he addresses 
under the name of Lucindo. I hope 
they may be printed. 

81 Tn the Preface to the ‘‘ Fama immor- 
tal del Fenix de Europa,” ec., by Juan 
de la Pefia, (Madrid, 1635, 12mo, ff. 16,) 
one of the multitudinous publications 


that appeared immediately after his 
death, we are told that ‘‘el concurso 
de gente que acudid a su casa a verle y 
al entierro fue el mayor que se ha visto.” | 
82 See Obras Sueltas, Tom. XIX. - 

XXI., in which they are republished, 
—Spanish, Latin, French, Italian, and 
Portuguese. The Spanish, which were 
brought together by Montalvan, and 
are preceded by his ‘‘ Fama Postuma 
de Lope de Vega.” may be regarded as 
a sort of gusta poética in honor of the 
great poet, in which above a hundred 
and fifty of his contemporaries bore 
their part. 


Cuar. XIV.] ILLNESS AND DEATH OF LOPE DE VEGA. 225 


audible sobs burst forth, 
scended from their sight 
for all living.” 


83 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. p. 42. 
For an exce lent and interesting discus- 
sion of Lope’s miscellaneous works, and 
one to which I[ have been indebted in 
writing this chapter, see London Quar- 
terly Review, No. 35, 1818. It is by 
Mr. Southey. 

Lope’s will, I think, has never been 
published, though I have seen an ab- 
stract of it. Having, however, ob- 
tained, through the kindness of the 
last Lord Holland, a copy of it, which 
Navarrete sent to his father, the author 
of Lope’s Life, saying that he had found 
it in ‘‘ El Archivo de Escrituras de Ma- 
drid,” when he was searching for the 
will of Cervantes, I give it here entire, 
as a curious and important document. 


‘¢TESTAMENTO DE LOPE DE VEGA. 


‘¢En el nombre de Dios nuestro Se- 
flor, amen. Sepan los que vieren esta 
escritura de testamento y ultima volun- 
tad, como yo Frey Lope Félix de Vega 
Carpio, Presbitero de la sagrada religion 
de San Juan, estando enfermo en la 
cama de enfermedad que Dios nuestro 
Senor fué servido de me dar, y en mi 
memoria, juicio y entendimiento natu- 
ral, creyendo y confesando, como ver- 
daderamente creo y confieso, el misterio 
de la Ssma. Trinidad, Padre, Hijo y 
Espiritu Santo, que son tres personas y 
un solo Dios verdadero, y lo demas que 
eree y ensena la Santa Madre Iglesia Ca- 
télica Romana, y en esta fe me giielgo 
haber vivido y protesto vivir y morir : 
y con esta invocacion divina otorgo mi 
*testamento, desapropiamiento y decla- 
racion en la forma siguiente. 

“Lo primero, encomiendo mi alma 4 
Dios nuestro Seiior que la hizo y crié 4 
su imagen y semejanza y la redimid por 
su preciosa sangre, al qual suplico la 
gee y lleve 4 su santa gloria, para 
o qual pongo por mi intercesora a la 


Sacratisima Virgen Maria, concebida ° 


sin pecado original, y 4 todos los Santos 


y Santas de la corte del cielo ; y defunto . 
mi cuerpo sea restituido 4 la tierra de - 


que fué formado. 

‘*Difunto mi cuerpo, sea vestido con 
las insignias de la dicha religion de San 
Juan, y sea depositado en la iglesia y 
lugar que ordenara el eximo. sr. Duque 


VOL. Il. 15 


as his remains slowly de- 
into the house apppointed 


de Sessa mi sefior; y paguese los de- 
rechos. 

*¢ 1 dia de mi entierro, si fuere hora 
y si no otro siguiente, se diga por mi 
alma misa cantada de cuerpo presente 
en la forma que se acostumbra con los 
demas religiosos ; y en quanto al acom- 
pahamiento de mi entierro, honras, no- 
venario y demas exéguias y misas de 
alma y rezadas que por mi alma se han 
de decir, lo dexo al parecer de mis alba- 
ceas, 6 de la persona que legitimamente 
le tocare esta disposicion. 

‘*Declaro que, antes de ser sacerdote 
y religioso, fui casado segun orden de 
la Santa Madre Iglesia con D*. Juana 
de Guardio, hija de Antonio de Guardio 
y D*. Maria de Collantes, su muger, 
difuntos, vecinos que fueron desta villa, 
y la dha. mi muger trax6 por dote suyo 
a mi poder viente y dos mil trescientos 
y ochenta y dos rs. de plata doble, é yo 
la hice de arras quinientos ducados, de 
que otorgué escritura ante Juan de 
Pina, y dellos soy deudor 4 D*. Feli- 
ciana Félix del Carpio, mi hija unica y 
de la dicha de mi muger, a quien mando 
se paguen y restituyan de lo mejor de 
mi hacienda con las ganancias que le 
tocare. 

**Declaro que la dicha D*. Feliciana, 
mi hija, esta casada con Luis de Usate- 
gui, vecino de esta villa, y al tiempo 
que se tratd el dicho casamiento le 
ofreci cinco mil ducados de dote, com- 
prehendiéndose en ellos lo que 4 la dicha 
mi hija le tocase de sus abuelos ma- 
ternos, y dellos otorgé seriptura ante el 
dho. Juan de Pifia, a que me remito, 
y respecto de haber estado yo alcanzado 
no he pagado ni satisfecho por cuento — 
de la dicha dote mrs. ni otra cosa algu- 
na, aunque he cobrado de la herencia 
del otro mi suegro algunas cantidades, 
como parecera de las cartas de pago que 
ho dado: mando se les paguen los dho. 
cinco mil ducados. 

‘*A Jas mandas forzosas si algun de- 
recho tienen, les mando quatro rs. 

*¢ A los lugares santos de Jerusalem 
mando veinte rs. 

‘«Para casamiento de doncellas giiérfa- 
nas un real = y para ayuda de la beati- 
ficacion de la Beata Maria de la Cabeza 
otro real. 


226 


“VY para cumplir y pagar este mi 
testamento y declaracion, nombro por 
mis albaceas 4 el dho. eximo. sr. 
*192 Duque de Sessa, * Dn. Luis Fer- 
nandez deCordoba, y Luis de Usa- 
tegui, mi yerno, y 4 qualquiera de los 
dos in sdlidum, a los quales con esta 
facultad doy poder para que luego que 
yo fallezea vendan de mis bienes los 
necesarios, y cumplan este testamento, 
y les dure el tiempo necesario aunque 
sea pasado el afio del albaceazgo. 

**Declaro que el Rey nuestro sefior 
(Dios le giie.) usando de su benignidad 
y largueza, ha muchos afios que en re- 
muneracion de el mucho afecto y volun- 
tad con que le he servido, me ofrecidé 
dar un oficio para la persona que casase 
con la dha. mi hija, conforme a la cali- 
dad de la dha. persona, y porque con 
esta esperanza tuvo efecto el dho. matri- 
monio, y el dho. Luis de Usategui, mi 
yerno, es hombre principal y noble, y 
esté muy alcanzado, suplico 4 S. M. 
con toda humildad y al eximo. sr. Conde 
Duque en atencion de lo referido honre 
al dho. mi yerno, haciéndole merced, 
como lo fio de su grandeza. 

“*Cobrese todo lo que pareciere me 
deben, y paguese lo que legitimamente 
pareciere que yo debo. 

‘*Y cumplido, en el remanente de 
todos mis bienes, derechos y acciones, 
nombro por mi heredera universal a la 
dha. D*. Feliciana Felix del Carpio, mi 
hija unica ; y en quanto a los que pueden 


THE WILL OF LOPE DE VEGA. 


[Periop II. 


tocar 4 la dha. sagrada religion de San 
Juan tambien cumpliendo con los esta- 
tutos della nombro a la dha. sagrada 
religion para que cada uno lleve lo que 
le perteneciere. 

**Revoco y doy por ningunos y de 
ningun efecto todos y qualesquier testa- 
mentos, cobdicilos, desapropiamientos, 
mandas, legados y poderes para testar 
que antes de este haya fecho y otorgado 
por escrito, de palabra, 6 en otra qual- 
quier manera que no valgaran, ne ha- 


‘gan fe, en juicio ni fuera dél, salvo este 
3 > 


que es mi testamento, declaracion y 
desapropiamiento, en qual quiere y 
manda se guarde y cumpla por tal, 6 
como mejor haya lugar de derecho. Y 
lo otorgo ansi ante el presente escribano 
del numero y testigos de yuso escritos 
en la villa de Madrid a veinte y seis 
dias del mes de Agosto afio de mil y 
seis cientos y treinta y cinco; é yo el 
dho. escribano doy fe conozco al dho. 
sefior otorgante, el qual pareciéd estaba 
en su jtlicio y entendimiento natural, y 
lo firmd: testigos el Dr. Felipe de Ver- 
gara medico, y Juan de Prado, platero 
de oro, y el licenciado, Josef Ortiz de 
Villena, presbitero, y D. Juan de Solis 
y Diego de Logrojio, residentes en esta 
corte, y tambien lo firmaron tres de los 
testigos = F. Lope Felix de Vega Car- 
pio = El Dr. Felipe de Vergara Testigo. 
=D. Juan de Solis = El licdo. Josef 
Ortiz de Villena = Ante mi: Francisco 
de Morales. 


OCC ee 


* 6 HAP T EeR XoVe i 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED. — CHARACTER OF HIS MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. — 
HIS DRAMAS.—HIS LIFE AT VALENCIA.—HIS MORAL PLAYS.—HIS SUC- 
CESS AT MADRID.— VAST NUMBER OF HIS DRAMAS.— THEIR FOUNDATION 
AND THEIR VARIOUS FORMS.— HIS COMEDIAS DE CAPA Y ESPADA, AND 
THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 


THE works of Lope de Vega that we have consid- 
ered, while tracing his long and brilliant career, are 
far from being sufficient to explain the degree of pop- 
ular admiration that, almost from the first, followed 
him. They show, indeed, much original talent, a still 
greater power of invention, and a wonderful facility of 
versification. But they are rarely imbued with the 
deep and earnest spirit of a genuine poetry; they gen- 
erally have an air of looseness and want of finish; and 
most of them are without that national physiognomy 
and character, in which, after all, resides so much of 
the effective power of genius over any people. 

The truth is, that Lope, in what have been called 
his miscellaneous works, was seldom in the path that 
leads to final success. He was turned aside by a spirit 
which, if not that of the whole people, was the spirit 
of the court and the higher classes of Castilian society. 
Boscan and Garcilasso, who preceded him by only half 
a century, had made themselves famous by giving cur- 
rency to the lighter forms of Italian verse, especially 
those of the sonnet and the canzone; and Lope, who 
found these fortunate poets the idols of the period, 
when his own character was forming, thought that to 


228 THE WORKS OF LOPE DE VEGA. _ [Penuop II. 


follow their brilliant course would open to him the 
best chances for success. His aspirations, however, 
stretched very far beyond theirs. He felt other and 
higher powers within him, and entered boldly into ri- 
valship, not only with Sannazaro and Bembo, as 
*194 they had done, but with * Ariosto, Tasso, and 
Petrarch. Eleven of his longer poems, epic, 
narrative, and descriptive, are in the stately otfava rima 
of his great masters; besides which he has left us two 
long pastorals in the manner of the “ Arcadia,’ many 
adventurous attempts in the ¢erza rima, and numberless 
specimens of all the varieties of Italian lyrics, includ- 
ing, among the rest, nearly seven hundred sonnets. 
But in all this there is little that is truly national, — 
‘little that is marked with the old Castilian spirit; and 
if this were all he had done, his. fame would by no 
means stand where we now find it. His prose pasto- 
rals and his romances are, indeed, better than his 
epics; and his didactic poetry, his epistles, and his 
elegies are occasionally excellent; but it is only when 
he touches fairly and fully upon the soil of his country, 
—it is only in his glosas, his Jetrillas, his ballads, and 
his light songs and roundelays,—that he has the 
richness and grace which should always have accompa- 
nied him. We feel at once, therefore, whenever we 
meet him in these paths, that he is on ground he 
should never have deserted, because it is ground on 
which, with his extraordinary gifts, he could easily 
have erected permanent monuments to his own .fame. 
But he himself determined otherwise. Not that he 
entirely approved the innovations of Boscan and Gar- 
cilasso; for he tells us distinctly, in his “ Philomena,” 
that their imitations of the Italian had unhappily sup- 
planted the grace and the glory that belonged pecu- | 


Cuar. XV.] LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. 229 


liarly to the old Spanish genius.’ The theories and 
fashions of his time, therefore, misled, though they did 
not delude, a spirit that should have been above 
them; and the result is, that little of poetry such as 
marks the old Castilian genius is to be found in the 
great mass of his works we have thus far been called 
on to examine. In order to account for his permanent 
success, as well as marvellous popularity, we must, 
then, turn to another and wholly distinct department, 
—that of the drama,—=in which he gave himself up 
to the leading of the national spirit as com- 
pletely as if *he had not elsewhere seemed *195 
sedulously to avoid it; and thus obtained a 

kind and degree of fame he could never otherwise 
have reached. 

It is not possible to determine the year when Lope 
first began to write for the public stage; but when- 
ever it was, he found the theatre in a rude and 
humble condition. That he was very early drawn 
to this form of composition, though not, perhaps, for 
the purposes of representation, we know on his own 
authority; for, in his pleasant didactic poem on the 
New Art of Making Plays, which he published in 1609, 
but read several years earlier to a society of dilettanti 
in Madrid, he says expressly : — 

The Captain Virues, a famous wit, 

Cast dramas in three acts, by happy hit ; 

For, till his time, upon all fours they crept, — 

Like helpless babes that never yet had stepped. 
Such plays I wrote, eleven and twelve years old; 
Four acts — each measured to a sheet’s just fold — 


Filled out four sheets ; while still, between, 
Three entremeses short filled up the scene.” 


1 Philomena, Segunda Parte, Obras hapa en pala como Lag! de TN 
ue eran entonces ninas las Comedias : 
Sueltas, Tom. I. p. 458. Y io las escribi, de once y doce anos, 


2 El capitan Virues, insigne ingenio, De 4 quatro actos y de 4 quatro pliegos, 
Puso en tres actos la Comedia, que antes Porque cada acto un pliego contenia: 


230 THEATRE AT VALENCIA. (Prriop II. 
This was as early as 1574. <A few years later, 
or about 1580, when the poet was eighteen years old, 
he attracted the notice of his early patron, Manrique, 
the Bishop of Avila, by a pastoral. His studies at 
Alcala followed; then his service under the young 
Duke of Alva, his marriage, and his exile of several 
years; for all which we must find room before 1588, 
when we know he served in the Armada. In 1590, 
however, if not a year earlier, he had returned to 
Madrid; and it does not seem unreasonable to assume 
that soon afterwards he began to be known in the 
capital as a dramatic writer, being then twenty-eight 
years old. 
But it was during the period of his exile that 
he seems to have really begun his public dramatic 
career, and prepared himself, in some measure, 
*196 for his subsequent more * general popularity. 
A part of this interval was passed in Valencia ; 
and in Valencia a theatre had been known for a long 
time.2 As early as 1526, the hospital there received 
an income from it, by a compromise similar to that in 
virtue of which the hospitals of Madrid long after- 
wards laid the theatre under contribution for their 
support. The Captain Virues, who was a friend of 
Lope de Vega, and is commemorated by him more than 


Y era que entonces en las tres distancias 
Se hacian tres pequenos entremeses. 
Obras Sueltas, Tom. IV. p. 412. 

There are autograph plays of Lope 
in existence, dated 1593 and 1594. 
Schack’s Beytrage, p. 45. 

8 Dramatic entertainments of some 
kind are spoken of at Valencia in the 
fourteenth century. In 13894, we are 
told, there was represented at the pal- 
ace a tragedy, entitled ‘* L’ hom ena- 
morat e la fembra satisfeta,”” by Mossen 
Domingo Maspons, a counsellor of John 
I. This was undoubtedly a Troubadour 
performance. Perhaps the Hntramesos 


mentioned as having been acted in the 
same city in 1412, 1413, and 1415 were 
of the same sort. At any rate, they 
seem to have belonged, like those we 
have noticed (ante, Vol. I. p. 231) by 
the Constable Alvaro de Luna, to court- 
ly festivities. Aribau, Biblioteca de 
Autores Espaiioles, Madrid, 1846, 8vo, 
Tom. II. p. 178, note ; and an excellent 
article on the early Spanish theatre, by 
F. Wolf, in Blatter fiir literarische Un- 
terhaltung, 1848, p. 1287, note. 

4 Jovellanos, Diversiones Publicas, 
Madrid, 1812, 8vo, p. 57. 


Cuap. XV.] LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. PAA 


once, wrote for this theatre, as did Timoneda, the 
editor of Lope de Rueda; the works of both the last 
being printed in Valencia about 1570. These Valen- 
cian dramas, however, except in the case of Lope 
de Rueda, were of moderate amount and value; nor 
was what was done at Seville by Cueva and his follow- 
ers, about 1580, or at Madrid by Cervantes, a little 
later, of more real importance, regarded as the foun- 
dations for a national theatre. 

Indeed, if we look over all that can be claimed for 
the Spanish drama from the time of the eclogues of 
Juan de la Enzina, in 1492, to the appearance of Lope 
de Rueda, about 1544, and then, again, from his time 
to that of Lope de Vega, we shall find, not only that 
the number of dramas was small, but that they had 
been written in forms so different and so often opposed 
to each other as to have little consistency or authority, 
and to offer no sufficient indication of the channel 
in which that portion of the literature of the country 
was at last destined to flow. We may even say, that, 
except Lope de Rueda, no author for the theatre had 
yet enjoyed any considerable popularity ; and he havy- 
ing now been dead more than twenty years, Lope de 
Vega must be admitted to have had a fair and free 
field open before him. 

Unfortunately, we have few of his earlier 
efforts. He *seems, however, to have begun * 197 
upon the old foundations of the eclogues and 
moralities, whose religious air and tone commended 
them to that ecclesiastical toleration without which 
little could thrive in Spain’ An eclogue, which is 
announced as having been represented, and which 


5 In one his earlier efforts he says, help them little.” But of this we shall 
(Obras, Tom. V. p. 346,) ‘‘The laws see more hereafter. 


232 LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. [Periop IL. 
seems really to be arranged for exhibition, is found in 
the third book of the “ Arcadia,” the earliest of Lope’s 
published works, and one that was written before his 
exile Several similar attempts occur elsewhere, — 
so rude and pious, that it seems almost as if they 
might have belonged to the age of Juan de la Enzina 
and Gil Vicente; and others of the same character 
are scattered through other parts of his multitudi- 
nous works.’ 

Of his more regular plays, the two oldest, that were 
subsequently included in his printed collection, are not 
without similar indications of their origin. Both are 
pastorals. The first is called “ The True Lover,” and 
was written when Lope was fourteen years old, though 
it may have been altered and improved before he pub- 
lished it, when he was fifty-eight. It is the story ofa 
shepherd who refuses to marry a shepherdess, though 
she had put him in peril of his life by accusing him of 
having murdered her husband, who, as she was quite 
aware, had died a natural death, but whose supposed 
murderer could be rescued from his doom only at her 
requisition, as next of kin to the pretended culprit ; — 
a process by which she hoped to obtain all power over 
his spirit, and compel him to marry her, as Ximena 
married the Cid, by royal authority. Lope admits it 
to be a rude performance; but it is marked by the 
sweetness of versification which seems to have belonged 
to him at every period of his career.’ 


6 It is probable, from internal evi- 
dence, that this eclogue, and some 
others in the same romance, were acted 
before the Duke Antonio de Alva. At 
any rate, we know similar representa- 
tions were common in the age of Cer- 
vantes and Lope, as well as before and 
after it. 

7 Such dramas are found in the ‘‘ Pas- 


tores de Belen,” Book III., and else- 
where. 

8 «*K) Verdadero Amante”’ is in the 
Fourteenth Part of the Comedias, print- 
ed at Madrid, 1620, and is dedicated to 
his son Lope, who died the next year, 
only fifteen years old ; — the father say- 
ing in the Dedication, ‘‘This play was 
written when I was of about your age.” 


‘ 


Cuar. XV.] LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. 253 
* The other of his early performances above *198 
alluded to is the “ Pastoral de Jacinto,” which 
Montalvan tell us was the first play Lope wrote in 
three acts, and that it was composed while he was.at- 
tached to the person of the Bishop of Avila. This 
must have been about the year 1580; but as the 
Jacinto was not printed till thirty-three years after- 
wards, it may perhaps have undergone large changes 
before it was offered to the public, whose requisitions 
had advanced in the interval no less than the condition 
of the theatre. He says in the Dedication, that it was 
“written in the years of his youth,” and it is founded 
on the somewhat artificial story of a shepherd fairly 
made jealous of himself by the management of another 
shepherd, who hopes thus to obtain the shepherdess 
they both love, and who passes himself off, for some 
time, as another Jacinto, and as the only one to whom 
the lady is really attached. It has the same flowing 
versification with “The True Lover,” but it is not 
superior in merit to that drama, which can hardly have 
preceded it by more than two or three years.’ 
Moralities, too, written with no little spirit, and with 
strong internal evidence of having been publicly per- 
formed, occur here and there, — sometimes where we 
should least look for them. Four such are produced in 
his “ Pilgrim in his own Country”; the romance, it 
may be remembered, which is not without allusions to 
its author’s exile, and which seems to contain some of 
his personal experiences at Valencia. One of these 


® Montalvan says: ‘‘Lope greatly 
ei Manrique, the Bishop of Avila, 
y certain eclogues which he wrote for 
him, and by the drama of ‘The Pasto- 
ral of Jacinto,’ the earliest he wrote in 
three acts.” (Obras, Tom. XX. p. 30.) 
It was first printed at Madrid, in 1618, 
4to, by Sanchez, in a volume entitled 


‘*Quatro Comedias Famosas De Don 
Luis de Gongora y Lope de Vega Car- 
pio,” ete. ; and afterwards in the eigh- 
teenth volume of the Comedias of Lope, 
Madrid, 1623. It was also printed sep- 
arately, under the double title of ‘‘ La 
Selva de Albania, y el Celoso de si mis- 
mo.” 


234 LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. (Perrop IL. 


allegorical plays is declared to have been performed 

in front of the venerable cathedral at Saragossa, and is 

among the more curious specimens of such entertain- 

ments, since it 1s accompanied with explanations of the 

way in which the churches were used for theatrical 
purposes, and ends with an account of the ex- 

* 199 position of * the Host as an appropriate conclu- 
sion for a drama so devout.” 

Another, called “The Soul’s Voyage,” is set forth as 
if represented in a. public square of Barcelona.” It 
opens with a ballad, which is sung by three persons, 
and is followed, first, by a prologue full of cumbrous 
learning, and then by another ballad, both sung and 
danced, as we are told, “with much skill and grace.” 
After all this note of preparation comes the “ Moral 
Action” itself. The Soul enters dressed in white, — 
the way in which a disembodied spirit was indicated to 
the audience. A clown, who, as the droll of the piece, 
represents the Human Will, and a gallant youth, who 
represents Memory, enter at the same time; one of 
them urging the Soul to set out on the voyage of sal- 
vation, and the other endeavoring to jest her out of 
such a pious purpose. At this critical moment, Satan 
appears as a ship-captain, in a black suit fringed with 
flames, and accompanied by Selfishness, Appetite, and 
other vices, as his sailors, and offers to speed the Soul 
on her voyage, all singing merrily together: — 

Holloa ! the good ship of Delight 

Spreads her sails for the sea to-day ; 

Who embarks ? who embarks, then, I say ? 
To-day, the good ship of Content, 


With a wind at her choice for her course, 
To a land where no troubles are sent, 


10 [t fills nearly fifty pages in the ‘‘A Moral Representation of the Soul’s 
third book of the romance. Voyage” ;—in other words, 4 Moral- 
11 In the first book. It is entitled ty. 


bo 
os) 
or 


Cuar. XY.] LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. 


Where none knows the stings of remorse, 
With a wind fair and free takes her flight ; — 
Who embarks ? who embarks, then, I say ? 


A new world is announced as their destination, and 
the Will asks whether it is the one lately discovered 
by Columbus ; to which and to other similar questions 
Satan replies evasively, but declares that he is a 
ereater pilot of the seas than Magellan or 
Drake, and will insure to all * who sail with * 200 
him a happy and prosperous voyage. Memory 
opposes the project, but, after some resistance, is put 
to sleep; and Understanding, who follows as a grey- 
beard full of wise counsel, comes too late. The adven- 
turers are already gone. But still he shouts after 
them, and continues his warnings, till the ship of Peni- 
tence arrives, with the Saviour for its pilot, a cross for 
its mast, and sundry Saints for its sailors. They sum- 
mon the Soul anew. The Soul is surprised and 
shocked at her situation; and the piece ends with her 
embarkation on board the sacred vessel, amidst a feu 
de joie, and the shouts of the delighted spectators, 
who, we may suppose, had been much edified by the 
show. 

Another of these strange dramas is founded on the 
story of the Prodigal Son, and is said to have been 
represented at Perpignan, then a Spanish fortress, by 
a party of soldiers; one of the actors being mentioned 
by name in its long and absurdly learned Prologue.* 
Among the interlocutors are Envy, Youth, Repentance, 
and Good Advice ; and among other extraordinary pas- 


12 Oy la Nabe del deleyte Se quiere hazer 4 la Mar. 

Se quiere hazer 4 la Mar ; — ; Ay quien se quiera embarcar? 
Ay quien se quiera embarcar? : : : 

fs eae contonto. El Peregrino en su Patria, Sevilla, 1604, 4to, 
Con viento en popa de gusto, 
a we Nag 18 Book Fourth. The compliment 

’ , 

Viendo que ay prospero viento, to the actor shows, of course, that the 


’ . 


236 LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. [Prriop II. 


sages it contains a flowing paraphrase of Horace’s 
“ Beatus ille,’ pronounced by the respectable proprie- 
tor of the swine intrusted to the unhappy Prodigal. 
The fourth Morality found in the romance of the 
Pilgrim is entitled “The Marriage of the Soul and 
Divine Love”; and is set forth as having been acted 
in a public square at Valencia, on occasion of the mar- 
riage of Philip the Third with Margaret of Austria, 
which took place in that city,— an occasion, we are 
told, when Lope himself appeared in the character of 
a buffoon,“ and one to which this drama, though 
* 201 it seems to* have been written earlier, was care- 
fully adjusted’® The World, Sin, the City of 
Jerusalem, and Faith, who is dressed in the costume of 
a captain-general of Spain, all play parts init. Envy 
enters, in the first scene, as from the infernal regions, 
through a mouth casting forth flames; and the last 
scene represents Love, stretched on the cross, and wed- 
ded to a fair damsel who figures as the Soul of Man. 
Some parts of this drama are very offensive; espe- 
cially the passage in which Margaret of Austria, with 
celestial attributes, is represented as arriving in the 
galley of Faith,and the passage in which Philip’s en- 
trance into Valencia is described literally as it oc- 
curred, but substituting the Saviour for the king, and 
the prophets, the martyrs, and the hierarchy of heaven 


piece was acted. Indeed, this is the it wasin the Moral Play of the Prodi- 
proper inference from the whole Pro- «gal Son, found in the Fourth Book of 
logue. Obras, Tom. V. p. 347. pean ‘*Peregrino en su Patria,” which, 


14 Mifiana, in his continuation of 
Mariana, (Lib. X. c. 15, Madrid, 1804, 
folio, p. 589,) says, when speaking of 
the marriage of Philip III. at Valencia, 
‘*In the midst of such rejoicings, taste- 
ful and frequent festivities and masquer- 
ades were not wanting, in which Lope 
de Vega played the part of the buffoon.” 
In what particular piece Lope played 
the part of the buffoon, Mifana does 
not tell us. I suspect, however, that 


though there spoken of as acted at Per- 
pignan, seems also, from a passage at 
f. 211, ed. 1604, to have been repre- 
sented at the Marriage of Philip III. 
and Margaret of Austria, at Valencia, 
in 1599, and in which the ‘‘ Gracioso”’ 
appears under the name of ‘‘ Belardo,” 
well known at the time as the poetical 
name of Lope. See ante, Chap. XIII. 
note 18. 
15 In Book Second. 


Cuar. XV.] LOPE’S EARLIEST DRAMAS. 237 


for the Spanish nobles and clergy who really appeared 
on the occasion.” 

Such were, probably, the unsteady attempts with 
which Lope began his career on the public stage during 
his exile at Valencia and for some years afterwards. 
They are certainly wild enough in their structure, and 
sometimes gross in sentiment, though hardly worse in 
either respect than the similar allegorical mysteries and 
farces which, till just about the same period, were per- 
formed in France and England, and much superior in 
their general tone and style. How long he continued to 
write them, or how many he wrote, we do not know. 
None of them appear in the collection of his 
dramas, which does not begin till 1604,"* though * 202 
an allegorical spirit is occasionally visible in some 
of his plays, which are, in other respects, quite in the 


16 Lope boasts that he has made this 
sort of commutation and accommoda- 
tion, asifit werea merit. ‘‘ This was 
literally the way,” he says, ‘‘in which 
his Majesty, King Philip, entered Va- 
lencia.” Obras, Tom. V. p. 187. 

lv A very curious and excessively 
rare volume, however, appeared at Ma- 
drid the year before, of which I found 
a copy in the Biblioteca Ambrogiana 
in Milan, and which contains plays of 
Lope. It is entitled, ‘‘Seis Comedias 
de Lope de Vega Carpio y de otros 
autores cujos nombres dellas (sic) son 
estos : — 

1. De la Destruicion de Constantino- 

la. 
F 2. De la Fundacion de la Alhambra 
de Granada. 

3. De los Amigos enojados. 

4, De la Libertad de Castilla. 

5. De las Hazafias del Cid. 

6. Del Perseguido. 

Con licencia de la Sta. Inquisicion y 


Ordinario. En Madrid, impreso por 
Pedro de Madrigal. Afio 1603.” Small 
4to, ff. 272. 


All six of the above plays are marked 
in Huerta’s Catalogo as Lope’s, but 
neither of them, I think, is in the list 
of the ‘‘ Peregrino,” 1604, where in 
fact, 1 suppose, Lope means—(by a 


reference to this publication, one edition 
of which appeared in 1603 at Lisbon, 
and I believe another at Seville) — to 
discredit them. And, no doubt, the 
first — ‘‘ La Destruicion de Constanti- 
nopla”’ —is not his, but Gabriel Las- 
so de la Vega’s. On the other hand, 
however, No. 3, ‘‘ Amistad pagada,” is 
in Vol. I. of Lope’s Comedias, 1604, 
and No. 6, ‘‘Carlos el Perseguido,” is 
in the same volume; while No. 4, *‘ La 
Libertad de Castilla,” appears in Vol. 
XIX., 1626, as ‘‘El Conde Fernan 
Gonzalez.” These three, therefore, are 
Lope’s. I did not have time to read 
them, but I ran them over hastily. 
The first in the volume, which is Ga- 
briel Lasso de la Vega’s, and which is 
short, seemed to be in the rude style 
of the stage when Lope took it in hand, 
and has allegorical personages, Death, 
Discord, etc. The sixth and the third, 
on the contrary, are much in Lope’s 
final manner, at least much more so 
than the others. It should be noted 
that the third is inserted in the volume 
by mistake as the fifth, and so vice 
versd; and that the fourth is said to 
be written in ‘‘lengua antigua.” The 
fifth is on the death of the Cid and the 
taking of Valencia, and has above fifty 
‘* figuras.” 


238 LOPE’S PLAYS AT MADRID. [Perrop II. 


temper of the secular theatre. But that he wrote 
such religious dramas early, and that he wrote great 
numbers of them, in the course of his life, is unques- 
tionable. 

In Madrid, if he found little to hinder, he also found 
little to help him, except two rude theatres, or rather 
court-yards, licensed for the representation of plays, 
and a dramatic taste formed or forming in the charac- 
ter of the people.” But this was enough for a spirit 
like his. His success was immediate and complete; 
his popularity overwhelming. Cervantes, as we have 
seen, declared him to be a “ prodigy of nature” ; and, 
though himself seeking both the fame and the profit 
of a writer for the public stage, generously recognized 
his great rival as its sole monarch.” 

Many years, however, elapsed before he published 
even a single volume of the.plays with which he was 
thus delighting the audiences of Madrid, and settling 
the final forms of the national drama. This was, no 
doubt, in part owing to the habit, which seems to have 

prevailed in Spain from the first appearance of 
*203 the theatre, of regarding * its literature as ill- 
suited for publication ; and in part to the cir- 
cumstance, that, when plays were produced on the 
stage, the author usually lost his right in them, if not 


1 The description of an imaginary a phrase frequently used ; and though 


performance of a popular drama in a 
small town of Castile just at this peri- 
od — 1595 — can be found in ‘‘ Ni Rey 
ni Roque,” (a Novela by Don Patricio 
de la Escosura, 1835, Tom. I. cap. 4,) 
and is worth reading, to see how rudely 
things were then managed, or supposed 
to be managed. 

19 See ante, p. 125, and Comedias, 
Madrid, 1615, 4to, Prédlogo. The phrase 
monstruo de naturaleza, in this passage, 
has been sometimes supposed to imply 
a censure of Lope on the part of Cer- 
vantes. But this is a mistake. It is 


sometimes understood in malam partem, 
as it is in Don Quixote, Parte I. c. 46, 
— ‘*Vete de mi presencia, monstruo de 
naturaleza,” —itis generally understood 
to be complimentary ; as, for instance, 
in the ‘‘Hermosa Ester” of Lope, (Co- 
medias, Tom. XV., Madrid, 1621,) near 
the end of the first act, where Ahasue- 
rus, in admiration of the fair Esther, 
says :— 
Tanta belleza 
Monstruo sera de la nituraleza. 

Cervantes, I have no doubt, used it in 
wonder at Lope’s prodigious fertility. 


Cuar. XV.] 239 


NUMBER OF HIS DRAMAS. 


entirely, yet so far that he could not publish them 
without the assent of the actors. But whatever may 
have been the cause, it is certain that a multitude of 
Lope’s plays had been acted before he published any 
of them; and that, to this day, not a fourth part of 
those he wrote has been preserved by the press.” 
Their very number, however, may have been one 
obstacle to their publication; for the most moderate 
and certain accounts on this point have almost a fabu- 
lous air about them, so extravagant do they seem. In 
1605, he gives us the titles of two hundred and nine- 
teen pieces that he had already written ;** in 1609, he 


20 Lope must have been a writer for 
the public stage as early as 1586 or 
1587, and a popular writer at Madrid 
soon after 1590 ; but we have no plays 
by him dated earlier than 1593-94, 
(Schack’s Nachtriige, 1854, p. 45,) and 
no knowledge that any of his plays were 
printed, with his own consent, before 
the volume which appeared as the No- 
vena Parte, Madrid, 1617. Yet, in the 
Preface to the ‘‘ Peregrino en su Patria,” 
licensed in 1603, he gives us a list of 
two hundred and nineteen plays which 
he acknowledges and claims ; and in 
the same Preface (I possess the book) 
he states their number at two hundred 
and thirty. In the edition of 1733 
(which I also have) it is raised to three 
hundred and forty-nine ; but in the 
Obras Sueltas, (Tom. V., 1776,) it is 
brought back to three hundred and 
thirty-nine, perhaps copying the edi- 
tion of 1605. Of all these, none, I 
conceive, has much authority except 
the first, and it may be difficult to find 
sufficient ground for attributing to Lope 
some of the plays whose titles are added 
in the later editions, though it is not un- 
likely that some of them may be famil- 
iar to us under other names. There are 
eight editions of the Peregrino, includ- 
ing that in the fifth volume of Sancha’s 
collection, 1777. Again, in 1618, when 
he says he had written eight hundred, 
(Comedias, Tom. XI., Barcelona, 1618, 
Prélogo,) only one hundred and thirty- 
four full-length plays, and a few entre- 
meses, had been printed. Finally, of 
the eighteen hundred attributed to him 


in 1635, after his death, by Montalvan 
and others, (Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. 
p. 49,) only about three hundred and 
twenty or thirty can be found in the 
volumes of his collected plays; and 
Lord Holland, counting awtos and all, 
which would swell the general claim of 
Montalvan to at least twenty-two hun- 
dred, makes out but five hundred and 
sixteen printed dramas of Lope. Life 
of Lope de Vega, London, 1817, 8vo, 
Vol. II. pp. 158-180. 

21 This curious list, with the Preface 
in which it stands, is worth reading 
over carefully, as affording indications 
of the history and progress of Lope’s 
genius. It is to Lope’s dramatic life 
what the list in Meres is to Shakespeare. 
It is found best in the first edition, 
1604. In the Spanish translation of 
this History, (Tom. II., 1851, pp. 551, 
552, ) in Schack’s Nachtrage, (1854, pp. 
45 —50,) and in the Documentos Inedi- 
tos, (Tom. 1.,) may be found the titles 
of a number of Lope’s Comedias that 


-are still extant in his autograph MSS. 


Two of them, at least, have never been 
published, ‘‘ Brasil Restituido,” found- 
ed on the capture of San Salvador by 
the Spaniards in 1625, and ‘‘ La Reina 
Dota Maria,” founded on the strange 
circumstances attending the birth of 
Don Jaime el Conquistador as naively 
related in Muntaner’s Chronicle. But 
of the last, which is in the possession 
of Prince Metternich, a satisfactory ac- 
count by Wolf may be found in the 
‘* Sitzungs-berichte”” of the Imperial 
Acadexzy at Vienna for April, 1855. 


240 NUMBER OF HIS DRAMAS. [Prerrop II. 


says their number had risen to four hundred 
*204 and eighty-three;* *in 1618, he says it was 

eight hundred ;* in 1619, again, in round num- 
bers, he states it at nine hundred;™ and in 1624, at 
one thousand and seventy.” After his death, in 1635, 
Perez de Montalvan, his intimate friend and eulogist, 
who three years before had declared the number to be 
fifteen hundred, without reckoning the shorter pieces,® 
puts it at eighteen hundred plays and four hundred 
autos ;*" numbers which are confidently repeated by 
Antonio in his notice of Lope,® and by Franchi, an 


In the year 1860 — that is, since the 
preceding paragraph was published — 
there appeared in the fifty-second vol- 
ume of Rivadeneyra’s Biblioteca an ex- 
traordinary contribution to the bibliog- 
raphy of Lope’s comedias and autos. Its 
author is Mr. J. R. Chorley of London, 
and it is said to be ‘‘ corregido y adi- 
cionado por el Sefor Don Cayetano de 
Barrera,”” whose Catalogue of Spanish 
plays and their authors is elsewhere 
noticed. How far the additions and 
corrections of Sefor Barrera extend 
does not appear, but that the immense 
and careful labor of the bibliography in 
question is substantially to be credited 
to Mr. Chorley, and that the alterations 
are few and unimportant, is hardly 
doubtful. The grand result, however, 
as reached in the final summary of Bar- 
rera, though I suspect this is not to 
be accepted as absolutely accurate, is, 
that of printed comedias known to be 
by Lope there are 403, besides which 
there are 63 probably his ; 106 cited in 
the ‘‘ Peregrino,” but not found ; ined- 


ited, 11; and doubtful, (por varios con- ° 


ceptos,) 25, making, in all, 608, but re- 
ducing the ‘‘repertorio conocido” of 
Lope to 439 comedias. In relation to 
the loas and entremeses no careful 
reckoning was made, so uncertain is the 
authorship of those attributed to him. 
The whole catalogue fills twenty-two 
large pages in double columns, and is 
extremely curious and satisfactory, ex- 
cept that it gives us so small a number 
of titles compared with the recognized 
number of Lope’s dramatic works in 
the two great classes to which the reck- 
oning relates, 


#2 In his ‘‘New Art of Writing 
Plays,” he says, ‘‘] have now written, 
including one that I have finished this 
week, four hundred and eighty-three 
plays.” He printed this for the first 
time in 1609 ; and though it was prob- 
ably written four or five years earlier, 
yet these lines near the end may have 
been added at the moment the whole 
poem went to the press. Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. IV. p. 417. 

23 In the Prdlogo to Comedias, Tom. 
XI., Barcelona, 1618;—a witty ad- 
dress of the theatre to the readers. 

24 Comedias, Tom. XIV., Madrid, 
1620, Dedication of ‘‘El Verdadero 
Amante” to his son. 

25 Comedias, Tom. XX., Madrid,1629, 
Preface, where he says, ‘*‘ Candid minds 
will hhope, that, as I have lived long 
enough to write a thousand and seventy 
dramas, I may live long enough to print 
them.” The certificates of this volume 
are datéd 1624 - 25. 

26 In the {ndice de los ‘‘Ingenios de 
Madrid,” appended to the ‘‘ Para To- 
dos” of Montalvan, printed in 1632, 
he says, Lope had then published twen- 
ty volumes of plays, and that the 
number of those that had been acted, 
without reckoning autos, was fifteen 
hundred. Lope also himself puts it at 
fifteen hundred in the Egloga 4 Clau- 
dio,” which, though not published till 
after his death, must have been written 
as early as 1632, since it speaks of the 
‘* Dorotea,” first published in that year, 
as still waiting for the light. 

*7 Fama Podstuma, Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. XX. p. 49. 

2 Art. Lupus Felix de Vega. 


CHar. XV.] NUMBER OF HIS DRAMAS. 241 


Italian, who had been much with Lope at Madrid, and 
who wrote one of the multitudinous eulogies on him 
after his death.” The prodigious facility implied by 
this is further confirmed by the fact stated by himself 
in one of his plays, that it was written and acted in 
five days,” and by the anecdotes of Montalvan, that 
he wrote five full-length dramas at Toledo in fifteen 
days, and one act of another in a few hours of the 
early morning, without seeming to make any effort in 
either case.” | 

Of this enormous mass about five hundred dramas 
appear to have been published at different 
times, — * most of them in the twenty-five, or, 
as 1s sometimes reckoned, twenty-eight, vol- 
umes which were printed in various places between 
1604 and 1647, but of which it is now nearly impossi- 
ble to form a complete collection.” In these volumes, 
so far as any rules of the dramatic art are concerned, 
it is apparent that Lope took the theatre in the state 
in which he found it; and instead of attempting to 
adapt it to any previous theory, or to any existing 
models, whether ancient or recent, made it his great 
object to satisfy the popular audiences of his age ;* — 


* 205 


29 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XXI. pp. 3, 
19. 

89 ¢¢ All studied out and written in 
five days.” Comedias, Tom. XXI., 
Madrid, 1635, f. 72, b. 

81 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. pp. 51, 
52. How eagerly his plays were sought 
by the actors and received by the audi- 
ences of Madrid may be understood 
from the fact Lope mentions in the 
poem to his friend Claudio, that above 
a hundred were acted within twenty- 
four hours of the time when their com- 
position was completed. Obras Suel- 
tas, Tom. IX. p. 368. Pacheco, in the 
notice of Lope prefixed to his ‘‘ Jeru- 
salen,” 1609, says that some of his most 
admired plays were written in two days. 
Obras Sueltas, Tom, XIV. p. xxxii. 


VOL.. II, 16 


82 By far the finest copy of Lope de 
Vega’s Comedias that I have ever seen 
is in the possession of Lord Taunton 
(formerly the Rt. Hon. Henry Labou- 
chere) at Stoke Park, near London. 
Including the Vega del Parnaso, 1647, 
and the various editions of the different 
volumes, where such exist, it makes 
forty-four volumes in all. 

The selection made by Hartzenbusch 
for the Biblioteca de Autores Espaiioles, 
and found in Vols. XXIV., XXXIV., 
and XLI. of that collection, to which 
one more is promised, is well made, 
but it is not edited with the care shown 
in the edition of Calderon by the same 
hand. I do not know why the ‘‘Doro- 
tea” is inserted. 

33 As early as 1603, Lope maintains 


242 NUMBER OF HIS DRAMAS. [Peniop IT. 


an object which he avows so distinctly in his “ Art of 
Writing Plays,’ and in the Preface to the twentieth 
volume of his Dramas, that there is no doubt it was 
the prevailing purpose with which he labored for the 
theatre. For such a purpose, he certainly appeared at 
a fortunate moment; and possessing a genius no less 
fortunate, was enabled to become the founder of the na- 
tional Spanish theatre, which, since his time, has rested 
substantially on the basis where he placed and left it. 
But this very system —if that may be called a sys- 
tem which was rather an instinct — almost necessarily 
supposes that he indulged his audiences in a great 
variety of dramatic forms; and accordingly we find, 
among his plays, a diversity, alike in spirit, tone, and 
structure, which was evidently intended to humor the 
uncertain cravings of the popular taste, and which we 
know was successful. Whether he himself ever took 
the trouble to consider what were the different classes 
into which his dramas might be divided, does 
*206 not appear. Certainly no *attempt at any 
technical arrangement of them is made in the 
collection as originally printed, except that, in the first 
and third volumes, a few entremeses, or farces, generally 
in prose, are thrown in at the end of each, as a sort of 
appendix. All the rest of the plays contained in them 
are in verse, and are called comedias,— a word which is 
by no means to be translated “comedies,’ but “ dra- 
mas,” since no other name is comprehensive enough to 
include their manifold varieties, — and all of them are 
divided into three jornadas, or acts. 





this doctrine in the Preface to his 
‘*Peregrino” ; it occurs frequently 


‘*Nueva Arte de Hacer Comedias,” 
however, is abundantly explicit on the 


afterwards in different parts of his 
works, as, for instance, in the Prdlogo 
to his ‘‘Castigo sin Venganza” ; and 
he left it as a legacy in the ‘‘ Egloga 4 
Claudio,” printed after his death. The 


subject in 1609, and no doubt expressed 
the deliberate purpose of its author, 
from which he seems never to have 
swerved during his whole dramatic ca- 
reer. 


Cuar. XV.] FORMS OF LOPE’S DRAMAS. 243 


But in everything else there seems no end to their 
diversities, — whether we regard their subjects, run- 
ning from the deepest tragedy to the broadest farce, 
and from the most solemn mysteries of religion down 
to the loosest frolics of common life, or their style, 
which embraces every change of tone and measure 
known to the poetical language of the country. And 
all these different masses of Lope’s drama, it should be 
further noted, run insensibly into each other, — the 
sacred and the secular, the tragic and the comic, the 
heroic action and that from vulgar life, — until some- 
times it seems as if there were neither separate form 
nor distinctive attribute to any of them. 

This, however, is less the case than it at first appears 
to be. Lope, no doubt, did not always know or care 
into what peculiar form the story of his drama was 
cast; but still there were certain forms and attributes 
invented by his own genius, or indicated to him by 
the success of his predecessors or the demands of his 
time, to which each of his dramas more or less tended. 
A few, indeed, may be found, so nearly on the limits 
that separate the different classes, that it is difficult to 
assign them strictly to either; but in all— even in 
those that are the freest and wildest — the distinctive 
elements of some class are apparent, while all, by the 
peculiarly national spirit that animates them, show the 
source from which they come, and the direction they 
are destined to follow. 

The jist class of plays that Lope seems to have in- 
vented —the one in which his own genius seemed 
most to delight, and which still remains more 
popular in Spain *than any other — consists of *207 
those called “ Comedias de Capa y Espada,” or 
Dramas with Cloak and Sword. They took their name 


244 COMEDIAS DE CAPA Y ESPADA. [Periop II. 


from the circumstance, that their principal personages 
belong to the genteel portion of society, accustomed, 
in Lope’s time, to the picturesque national dress of 
cloaks and swords,— excluding, on the one hand, those 
dramas in which royal personages appear, and, on the 
other, those which are devoted to common life and the 
humbler classes. Their main and moving principle is 
gallantry,—such gallantry as existed in the time of 
their author. The story is almost always involved 
and intriguing, and almost always accompanied with 
an underplot and parody on the characters and adven- 
tures of the principal parties, formed out of those of 
the servants and other inferior personages. 

Their titles are intended to be attractive, and are 
not infrequently taken from among the old rhymed 
proverbs, that were always popular, and that some- 
times seem to have suggested the subject of the drama 
itself.** They uniformly extend to the length of regu- 
lar pieces for the theatre, now settled at three jyornadas, 
or acts, each of which, Lope advises, should have its 
action compressed within the limits of a single day, 
though he himself is rarely scrupulous enough to 
follow his own recommendation. They are not prop- 
erly comedies, for nothing is more frequent in them 
than duels, murders, and assassinations; and they are 
not tragedies, for, besides that they end happily, they 
are generally composed of humorous and sentimental 
dialogue, and their action is carried on chiefly by lovers 
full of romance, or by low characters whose wit is 
mingled with buffoonery. All this, it should be under- 


84 These titles were often in the old And in the very next play, ‘‘ El ausente 
ballad measure, and inserted as a line en el Lugar”: — 
in the play, generally at the end; ex. El ausente en el Lugar 


gr. * El Amete de Toledo”: — Se queda en el y contento. 
Comedias, Tom. II., 1618. 


Sree eee Calderon and other dramatists did. the 
same, 


Cnr. XV.] THE AZERO DE MADRID. 245 


stood, was new on the Spanish stage; or if hints might 
have been furnished for individual portions of it as 
far back as Torres Naharro, the combination at least 
was new, as well as the manners, tone, and cos- 
tume. 

*Of such plays Lope wrote a very large * 208 
number, — several hundreds, at least. His ge- 
nius — rich, free, and eminently inventive — was well 
fitted for their composition, and in many of them 
he shows much dramatic tact and talent. Among the 
best are “The Ugly Beauty”;* “Money makes the 
Man”;* “The Pruderies of Belisa,”*’ which has the 
accidental merit of being all but strictly within the 
rules; “The Slave of her Lover,’®® in which he has 
sounded the depths of a woman’s tenderness; and 
“The Dog in the Manger,’ in which he has almost 
equally well sounded the depths of her selfish vanity.” 
But perhaps there are some others which, even better 
than these, will show the peculiar character of this 
class of Lope’s dramas, and his peculiar position in re- 
lation to them. To two or three such we will, there- 
fore, now turn. 

“Hl Azero de Madrid,” or The Madrid Steel, is one 
of them, and is among his earlier works for the stage.” 


35 Comedias, Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 
1641, 4to, f. 22, ete. 

86 [| know this play, ‘‘Dineros son 
Calidad,” only among the Comedias Su- 
eltas of Lope ; but it is no doubt his, 
as it is in Tom. XXIV. printed at 
Zaragoza in 1632, which contains dif- 
ferent plays from a Tom. XXIV. print- 
ed at Zaragoza in 1641, which I have. 
There is yet a third Tom. XXIV., 
printed at Madrid in 1638. The inter- 
nal evidence would, perhaps, be enough 
to prove its authorship. 

87 Comedias, Tom. IX., Barcelona, 
1618, f. 277, etc., but often reprinted 
since under the title of ‘*La Melin- 
drosa.” When mentioning the con- 
formity of this play to the rules, it 


may be well to remember that it was 
written only a year and a half before 
Lope died. See note at the end of this 
chapter. 

38 Comedias, Tom. XXV., Caragoca, 
1647, f. 1, ete. 

89 Comedias, Tom. XI., Barcelona, 
1618, f. 1, etc. The Preface to this 
volume is curious, on account of Lope’s 
complaints of the booksellers. He calls 
it ‘‘Prdélogo del Teatro,” and makes 
the surreptitious publication of his plays 
an offence against the drama itself. He 
intimates that it was not very uncom- 
mon for one of his plays to be acted 
seventy times. 

49 The ‘‘Azero de Madrid,” which 
was written as early as 1603, has often 


246 THE AZERO DE MADRID. (Periop II. 


It takes its name from the preparations of steel for me- 
dicinal purposes, which, in Lope’s time, had just come 
into fashionable use; but the main story is that of a 
light-hearted girl, who deceives her father, and espe- 
cially her hypocritical old aunt, by pretending to be ill 
and taking steel medicaments from a seeming doctor, 
who is a friend of her lover, and who prescribes walk- 
ing abroad, and such other free modes of life as 
may best afford opportunities for her admirer’s atten- 
tions. 
*209 #™*There can be little doubt that in this play 
we find some of the materials for the “ Médecin 
Maleré Lui”; and though the full success of Moliére’s 
original wit is not to be questioned, still the happiest 
portions of his comedy can do no more than come into 
fair competition with some passages in that of Lope: 
The character of the heroine, for instance, is drawn 
with more spirit in the Spanish than it is in the French 
play; and that of the devotee aunt, who acts as her 
duenna, and whose hypocrisy is exposed when she her- 
self falls in love, is one which Moliére might well have 
envied, though it was too exclusively Spanish to’ be 
brought within the courtly conventions by which he 
was restrained. 

The whole drama is full of life and gayety, and has a 
truth and reality about it rare on any stage. Its open- 
ing is both a proof of this and a characteristic specimen 
of its author’s mode of placing his audience at once, by 
a decisive movement, in the midst of the scene and 
the personages he means to represent. Lisardo, the 
hero, and Riselo, his friend, appear watching the 
door of a fashionable church in Madrid, at the con- 


been printed separately, and is found another hit at the fashionable drug in 
in the regular collection, Tom. XI., his ‘‘Dorotea,” Act V. Sc. 1. 
Barcelona, 1618, f. 27, etc. Lope has 


Cuar. XV.] THE AZERO DE MADRID. 247 


clusion of the service, to see a lady with whom 
Lisardo is in love. They are wearied with waiting, 
while the crowds pass out, and Riselo at last declares 
-he will wait for his friend’s fancy no longer. At this 
moment appears Belisa, the lady in question, attended 
by her aunt, Theodora, who wears an affectedly re- 
ligious dress and is lecturing her:— 


Theodora. Show more of gentleness and modesty ; — 

Of gentleness in walking quietly, 

Of modesty in looking only down 

Upon the earth you tread. 
Belisa. *T is what I do. 
Theodora. What? When you’re looking straight towards that man? 
Belisa. Did you not bid me look upon the earth ? 

And what is he but just a bit of it ? 
Theodora. 1 said the earth whereon you tread, my niece. 
Belisa. But that whereon I tread is hidden quite 

With my own petticoat and walking-dress. 
Theodora. Words such as these become no well-bred maid. 

But, by your mother’s blessed memory, 

I’ll put an end to all your pretty tricks ; — 

What? You look back at him again ? 

* Belisa. Who? I? * 210 
Theodora. Yes, you ;—-and make him secret signs besides. 
Belisa. Not I. ’T is only that you troubled me 

With teasing questions and perverse replies, 
So that I stumbled and looked round to see 
Who would prevent my fall. 


Riselo (to Lisardo). She falls again. 
Be quick and help her. 
Lisardo (to Belisa.) Pardon me, lady, 
And forgive my glove. 
Theodora. Who ever saw the like ? 
Belisa. I thank you, sir; you saved me from a fall. 


LIisardo. An angel, lady, might have fallen so ; 

Or stars that shine with heaven’s own blessed light 
Theodora. 1, too, can fall; but ’t is upon your trick. 

Good gentleman, farewell to you ! 
Lisardo. Madam, 

Your servant. (Heaven save us from such spleen!) 
Theodora. A pretty fall you made of it ; and now I hope 

You "ll be content, since they assisted you. 
Belisa. And you no less content, since now you have 

The means to tease me for a week to come. 
Theodora. But why again do you turn back your head ? 


248 [Prriop If. 


DRAMAS FOR THE COURT. 


Belisa. Why, sure you think it wise and wary 
To notice well the place I stumbled at, 
Lest I should stumble there when next I pass. 
Theodora. Mischief befall you! But I know your ways ! 


You ’ll not deny this time you looked upon the youth ? 


Belisa. Deny it? No! 
Theodora. You dare confess it, then ? 
Belisa. Be sure I dare. You saw him help me,— 


And would you have me fail to thank him for it ? 
Theodora. Goto! Come home! come home ! 
Belisa. Now we shall have 
A pretty scolding cooked up out of this.‘ 


*211 #*Other passages are equally spirited and no 
less Castilian. The scene, at the beginning of 
the second act, between Octavio, another lover of the 
lady, and his servant, who jests at his master’s passion, 
as well as the scene with the mock doctor, that follows, 
are both admirable in their way, and must have pro- 
duced a great effect on the audiences of Madrid, who 
felt how true they were to the manners of the time. 
But all Lope’s dramas were not written for the pub- 


lic theatres of the capital. He was the courtly, no less 


Con que pudrirme seys dias. 





41 Teo. Lleua cordura y modestia ; — 


Beil. 
Bel. 


T%0. 


Bel. 


Teo. 


Bel. 


Ris. 


Eas. 
Bel. 


Teo. 


Lis. 
Teo 
Bel. 


Cordura en andar de espacio ; 
Modestia en que solo veas 

La misma tierra que pisas. 
Ya hago lo que me ensefias. 


- Como miraste aquel hombre? 2? 


No me dixiste que viera 

Scla tierra? pues, dime, 

Aquel hombre no es de tierra ? 
Yo la que pisas te digo. 

La que piso va cubierta 

De la saya y los chapines. 


. Que palabras de donzella! 


Por el siglo de tu madre, 

Que yo te quite essas tretas!’ 
Otra vez le miras? Bel. Yo? 
Luego no le hiziste senas ? 
Fuy 4 caer, como me turbas 
Con demandas y respuestas, 
Y¥ miré quien me tuuiesse. 
Cayo! llegad 4 tenerla! 
Perdone, vuessa merced, 

El guante. Teo. Ay cosa como esta? 
Beso os las manos, Senor ; 
Que, si no es por Vos, cayera. 


; Cayera un angel, Senora, 


Y cayeran las estrellas, 

A quien da mas Jumbre el sol. 
Y yo cayera en la cuenta. 

ago I cauallero, con Dios! 

El 6s guarde, ¥ me defienda 
De condicion tan estratia! 

Ya cayste, yris contenta, 

De que te ‘dieron la mano. 

Y tu lo iris de que tengas 


Teo. A que bueluas la cabeca ? 
Bel. Pues no te parece que es 

Advertencia muy discreta 

Mirar adonde cahi, 

Para que otra vez no buelua 

A tropecar en lo mismo ? 
Teo. Ay, mala pascua te venga, 

Y como entiendo tus mafias. 

Otra vez, y diras que esta 

No miraste el mancebito ? 
Bel. Es verdad. Teo. Y lo confiessas ? 
Bel. Sime dis la mano alli, 

No quieres que lo agradesca ? 
Teo. Anda, que entraras en casa. 
Bel. © 1o que haras de quimeras! 


Comedias de Lope de Vega, Tom. XI., 
Barcelona, 1618, f 27. 


The sort of decorum required in the 
first lines of this extract is the same 
that was observed by the charming 
Dorothea of Cervantes, and was, no 
doubt, looked upon at the time as no 
more than a gentle modesty. ‘‘ Las 
dias que iba 4 misa era de mafiana y tan 
acompafiada de mi madre y de otras 
eriadas y yo tan cubierta y recatada, 
que apenas vian mis ojos mas tierra 
de aquella donde ponia los pies.” Don 
Quixote, Parte I.:c. 28. 


Cuar. XV.] THE NOCHE DE SAN JUAN. 249 


than the national poet of his age; and as we have 
already noticed a play full of the spirit of his youth, 
and of the popular character, to which it was addressed, 
we will now turn to one no less buoyant and free, which 
was written in his old age and prepared expressly for 
a royal entertainment. It is “The Saint John’s Eve,” 
and shows that his manner was the same, whether he 
was to be judged by the unruly crowds gathered in 
one of the court-yards of the capital, or by a few per- 
sons selected from whatever was most exclusive and 
elevated in the kingdom. . 

The occasion for which it was prepared and the 
arrangements for its exhibition mark, at once the 
luxury of the royal theatres in the reign of Philip the 
Fourth, and the consideration enjoyed by their 
favorite poet.” The * drama itself was ordered * 212 
expressly by the Count Duke Olivares, for a 
magnificent entertainment which he wished to give his 
sovereign in one of the gardens of Madrid, on Saint 
John’s Eve, in June, 1631. No expense was spared 
by the profligate favorite to please his indulgent mas- 
ter. The Marquis Juan Bautista Crescencio — the 
same artist to whom we owe the sombre Pantheon of 
the Escurial— arranged the architectural construc- 


a theatre of great magnificence. The 


42 The facts relating to this play are 
drama, which was much like a masque 


taken partly from the play itself, (Come- 


dias, Tom. XXI., Madrid, 1635, f. 68, 
b,) and partly from Casiano Pellicer, 
Origen y Progresos de la Comedia, Ma- 
drid, 1804, 12mo, Tom. I. pp. 174-191. 
The £ntremes of ‘Las Duefias,” by 
Benevente, (Joco-Seria, 1653, ff. 168- 
172,) was a part of this brilliant festival. 

A similar entertainment had been 
given by his queen to Philip 1V., on 
his birthday, in 1622, at the beautiful 
country-seat of Aranjuez, for which the 
unfortunate Count of Villamediana fur- 
nished the poetry, and Fontana, the 
distinguished Italian architect, erected 


of the English theatre, and was per- 
formed by the queen and her ladies, is 
in the Works of Count Villamediana 
(Caragoca, 1629, 4to, pp. 1-55); and 
an account of the entertainment itself 
is given in Antonio de Mendoga (Obras, 
Lisboa, 1690, 4to, pp. 426 ~ 464) ;— all 
indicating the most wasteful luxury and 
extravagance. A curious English ver- 
sion of Mendoga’s account may be found 
at the end of Sir R. Fanshawe’s trans- 
lation of Mendoca’s ‘‘ Querer por solo 
Gnger i 1670. See post, note to Chap. 


250 THE NOCHE DE SAN JUAN. (Pertop Il. 


tions, which consisted of luxurious bowers for the king 
and his courtiers, and a gorgeous theatre in front of 
them, where, amidst a blaze of torchlight, the two 
most famous companies of actors of the time performed 
successively two plays: one written by the united tal- 
ent of Francisco de:Quevedo and Antonio de Mendoga ; 
and the other, the crowning grace of the festival, by 
Lope de Vega. | 

The subject of the play of Lope is happily taken 
from the frolics of the very night on which it was rep- 
resented ;+-a night frequently alluded to in the old 
Spanish stories and ballads, as one devoted, both by 
Moors and Christians, to gayer superstitions, and ad- 
ventures more various, than belonged to any other of 
the old national holidays. What was represented, 
therefore, had a peculiar interest, from its appropriate- 
ness both as to time and place. 

Leonora, the heroine, first comes on the stage, and 
confesses her attachment to Don Juan de Hurtado, a 
gentleman who has recently returned rich from the 
Indies. She gives a lively sketch of the way in which 
he had made love to her in all the forms of national 
admiration, at church by day, and before her grated 
balcony in the evenings. Don Luis, her brother, igno- 
rant of all this, gladly becomes acquainted with the 
lover, whom he interests in a match of his own with 
Dofia Blanca, sister of Bernardo, who is the cherished 
friend of Don Juan. Eager to oblige the brother of 

the lady he loves, Don Juan seeks Bernardo, 
*213 and, in the course of their conversation, * inge- 





48 Lope himself, in 1624, published a on St. John’s Eve in Spanish poetry, is 
poem on the same subject, which fills in ‘‘Doblado’s Letters,” (1822, p. 309,) 
thirty pages in the third volume of his —a work full of the most faithful 
Works ; but a description of the frolics sketches of Spanish character and man- 
of St. John’s Eve, better suited to illus- ners. 
trate this play of Lope, and much else 


Guar. XV.] THE NOCHE DE SAN JUAN. 251 


niously describes to him a visit he has just made 
to see all the arrangements for the evening’s enter- 
tainment now in progress before the court, including 
this identical play of Lope; thus whimsically claiming 
from the audience a belief that the action they are wit- 
nessing on the stage in the garden is, at the very same 
moment, going on in real life in the streets of Madrid, 
just behind their backs ;— a passage which, involving, 
as it does, compliments to the king and the Count 
Duke, to Quevedo and Mendoga, must have been one 
of the most brilliant in its effect that can be imagined. 
But when Don Juan comes to explain his mission 
about the Lady Blanca, although he finds a most will- 
ing consent on the part of her brother, Bernardo, he 
is thunderstruck at the suggestion, that this brother, 
his most intimate friend, wishes to make the alliance 
double, and marry Leonora himself. 

Now, of course, begin the involutions and difficulties. 
Don Juan’s sense of what he owes to his friend forbids 
him from setting up his own claim to Leonora, and he 
at once decides that nothing remains for him but flight. 
At the same time, it is discovered that the Lady Blanca 
is already attached to another person, a noble cavalier, 
named Don Pedro, and will, therefore, never marry 
Don Luis, if she can avoid it. The course of true love, 
therefore, runs smooth in neither case. But both the 
ladies avow their determination to remain steadfastly 
faithful to their lovers, though Leonora, from some 
fancied symptoms of coldness in Don Juan, arising out 
of his over-nice sense of honor, is in despair at the 
thought that he may, after all, prove false to her. 

So ends the first act. The second opens with the 
Lady Blaneca’s account of her own lover, his condition, 
and the way in which he had made his love known to 


252 THE NOCHE DE SAN JUAN. [Periop II. 


her in a public garden;—all most faithful to the 
national costume. But just as she is ready to escape 
and be privately married to him, her brother, Don 
Bernardo, comes in, and proposes to her to make her 
first visit to Leonora, in order to promote his own suit. 
Meantime, the poor Leonora, quite desperate, rushes 

into the street with her attendant, and meets 
*214 her lover’s servant, the clown and * harlequin 

of the piece, who tells her that his master, 
unable any longer to endure his sufferings, is just 
about escaping from Madrid. The master, Don Juan, 
follows in hot haste, booted for his journey. The lady 
faints. When she revives, they come to an under- 
standing, and determine to be married on the instant; 
so that we have now two private marriages, beset with 
difficulties, on the carpet at once. But the streets 


are full of frolicsome crowds, who are indulged in a | 


sort of carnival freedom during this popular festival. 
Don Juan’s rattling servant gets into a quarrel with 
some gay young men, who are impertinent to his 
master, and to the terrified Leonora. Swords are 
drawn, and Don Juan is arrested by the officers of 
justice and carried off, — the lady, in her fright, taking 
refuge in a house, which accidentally turns out to be 
that of Don Pedro. But Don Pedro is abroad, seeking 
for his own lady, Dofia Blanca. When he returns, 
however, making his way with difficulty through the 
rioting populace, he promises, as in Castilian honor 
bound, to protect the helpless and unknown Leonora, 
whom he finds in his balcony timidly watching the 
movements of the crowd in the street, among whom 
she is hoping to catch a glimpse of her own lover. 

In the last act we learn that Don Juan has at once, 


by bribes, easily rid himself of the officers of justice, 


Le Se 


Cuar. XV.] THE NOCHE DE SAN JUAN. 258 


and is again in the noisy and gay streets seeking for 
Leonora. He falls in with Don Pedro, whom he has 
never seen before; but Don Pedro, taking him, from 
his inquiries, to be the brother from whom Leonora is 
anxious to be concealed, carefully avoids betraying 
her to him. Unhappily, the Lady Blanca now arrives, 
having been prevented from coming earlier by the 
confusion in the streets; and he hurries her into his 
house for concealment till the marriage ceremony can be 
performed. But she hurries out again no less quickly, 
having found another lady already concealed there ;— 
a circumstance which she takes to be direct proof of 
her lover’s falsehood. Leonora follows her, and begins 
an explanation; but in the midst of it, the two 
brothers, who had been seeking these same 
missing sisters, come suddenly in; *a scene of * 215 
great confusion and mutual reproaches ensues ; 

and then the curtain falls with a recognition of all the 
mistakes and attachments, and the full happiness of the 
two ladies and their two lovers. At the end, the poet, 
in his own person, declares, that, if his art permits him 
to extend his action over twénty-four hours, he has, in 
the present case, kept within its rules, since he has 
occupied less than ten. 

As a specimen of plays founded on Spanish manners, 
few are happier than “The Saint John’s Eve.” The 
love-scenes, all honor and passion; the scenes between 
the cavaliers and the populace, at once rude and gay; 
and the scenes with the free-spoken servant who plays 
the wit, — are almost all excellent, and instinct with 
the national character. It was received with the great- 
est applause, and constituted the finale of the Count 
Duke’s magnificent entertainment, which, with its mu- 
sic and dances, interludes and refreshments, occupied 


254 THE BOBA PARA LOS OTROS. [Perrop II. 


the whole night, from nine o’clock in the evening till 
daylight the next morning, when the royal party 
swept back with great pomp and ceremony to the pal- 
ace;— the stately form of Olivarez, such as we see 
him in the pictures of Velazquez, following the king’s 
coach in place of the accustomed servant. 

Another of the plays of Lope, and one that belongs 
to the division of the Capa y Espada, but approaches 
that of the heroic drama, is his “ Fool for Others and 
Wise for Herself.’“ It is of a lighter and livelier 
temper throughout than most of its class. Diana, edu- 
cated in the simple estate of a shepherdess, and wholly 
ignorant that she is the daughter and heir of the Duke 
of Urbino, is suddenly called, by the death of her fa- 
ther, to fill his place. She is surrounded by intriguing 
enemies, but triumphs over them by affecting a rustic 
simplicity in whatever she says and does, while, at the 
same time, she is managing all around her, and carry- 
ing on a love-intrigue with the Duke Alexander Far- 

nese, which ends in her marriage with him. 
*216  *The jest of the piece lies in the wit she is 

able to conceal under her seeming rusticity. 
For instance, at the very opening, after she has been 
secretly informed of the true state of things, and has 
determined what course to pursue, the ambassadors 
from Urbino come in and tell her, with a solemnity 
suited to the occasion : — 

Lady, our sovereign lord, the Duke, is dead! 

To which she replies : — 


What ’s that tome? But if ’t is surely so, 
Why then, sirs, ’t is for you to bury him. 
I ’m not the parish curate,* 


44 Comedias, Tom. XXI., Madrid, See cone 
1635, f. 45, ete. ue yo no soi el Cura. 
#5 Camilo. Sefiora, el Duque es muerto. Comedias, Tom. XXI, 


Diana. Pues que se me da 4 mi? pero si Madrid, 1635, f. 47. 
es cierto, 


Ne —EEeEEEEEeEOEeEEeeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEE 


Car. XV.] VARIOUS PLAYS. 259 


This tone is maintained to the end, whenever the 
heroine appears; and it gives Lope an opportunity to 
bring forth a great deal of the fluent, light wit of 
which he had ‘such ample store. 

Little ike all we have yet noticed, but still belong- 
ing to the same class, is “The Reward of Speaking 
Well,” “ —a charming play, in which the accounts of 
the hero’s birth and early condition are so absolutely 
a description of his own that it can hardly be doubted 
that Lope intended to draw the character in some de- 
gree from himself. Don Juan, who is the hero, is 
standing with some idle gallants near a church in 
Seville, to see the ladies come out; and, while there, 
defends, though he does not know her, one of them 
who is lightly spoken of. A quarrel ensues. He 
wounds his adversary, is pursued, and chances to take 
refuge in the house of the very lady whose honor he 
had so gallantly maintained a few moments before. 
She from gratitude secretes him, and the play ends 
with a wedding, though not until there has been a per- 
fect confusion of plots and counterplots, intrigues and 
concealments, such as so often go to make up the three 
acts of Lope’s dramas. 

Many other plays might be added to these, showing, 
by the diversity of their tone and character, 
how diverse * were the gifts of the extraordi- * 217 
nary man who invented them, and filled them 
with various and easy verse. Among them are “ Por 
la Puente Juana,” “ “El Anzuelo de Fenisa,”*® “El 
Ruysefior de Sevilla”;* “Porfiar hasta Morir,’ ® 


6 Comedias, Tom. XXI., Madrid, 1617, and often printed separately; a 
1635, f. 158, ete. play remarkable for its gayety and 
47 Comedias, Tom. XXI., Madrid, _ spirit. 
1635, f. 248, ete. It has often been 49 Comedias, Tom. XVII., Madrid, 
rinted separately; once in London. 1621, f. 187, ete. 

he title is the first line of an old ballad. 5) Comedias, Tom, XXIII., Madrid, 
48 Comedias, Tom. VIII., Madrid, 1688, f. 96, etc. 


256 


VARIOUS PLAYS. 


[Prriop II. 


which last is on the story of Macias el Enamorado, 
always a favorite with the old Spanish and Provengal 
poets; and the “ Bizarrias de Belisa,’ a gay comedy, 
which is interesting from the circumstance that it was 
finished in 1654, when he was nearly seventy-two years 
old. But it is neither needful nor possible to go fur- 


ther. 


Enough has been said to show the general char- 


acter of their class, and we therefore now turn to 


another.®! 


51 From the Spanish translation of 
this History, (Tom. II. p. 551,) I col- 
lect the following dates of a few plays 
of Lope on the authority of his own 
autographs : — 


Prueba de los Amigos, 12th Septem- 
ber, 1604. 

Carlos V. en Francia, 20th Novem- 
ber, 1604. 

Batalla del Honor, 18th April, 1608. 

Encomienda mal guardada, 19th 
April, 1610. 

Lo que ha de ser, 2d September, 
1624. 


Competencia en los Nobles, 16th No- 
vember, 1625. 

Sin Secreto no hay Amor, 18th July, 
1626. 

Bizarrias de Belisa, 24th May, 1634. 


I can add to these from my own col- 
lection :— 


Castigo sin Venganza, 1st August, 
1631. 


See, also, Salva y Baranda, Documen- 
tos Ineditos, Tom. I., and Chorley’s 
Catalogue, already referred to. 


: 
: 
| 
| 
) 
| 
; 
| 





Sale Dex. Vi * 218 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED.— HIS HEROIC DRAMA, AND ITS CHARACTERIS- 
TICS. — GREAT NUMBER ON SUBJECTS FROM SPANISH HISTORY, AND SOME 
ON CONTEMPORARY EVENTS. 


Tue dramas of Lope de Vega that belong to the 
next class were called “Comedias Herdicas,’ or “ Co- 
medias Historiales,’— Heroic or Historical Dramas. 
The chief differences between these and the last 
are, that they bring on the stage personages in a 
higher rank of life, such as kings and princes; that 
they generally have an historical foundation, or at least 
use historical names, as if claiming it; and that their 
prevailing tone is grave, imposing, and even tragical. 
They have, however, in general, the same involved, in- 
triguing stories and underplots, the same play of jeal- 
ousy and an over-sensitive honor, and the same low, 
comic caricatures to relieve their serious parts, that are 
found in the dramas of “the Cloak and Sword.” Philip 
the Second disapproved of this class of plays, thinking 
they tended to diminish the royal dignity, — a circum- 
stance which shows at once the state of manners at the 
time, and the influence attributed to the theatre. 

Lope wrote a very large number of plays in the 
forms of the heroic drama, which he substantially in- 
vented, — perhaps as many as he wrote in any other 
class. Everything historical seemed, indeed, to furnish 
him with a subject, from the earliest annals of the 


1 Lope de Vega, Obras Sueltas, Tom. se introduce Rey o Sefior soberano es 
IV. p. 410. Such plays were alsosome- ‘Tragedia.’’ See Lagrimas Panegiricas 
times called tragedies. ‘‘Aquelladonde de Montalvan, 1639, f. 150, b. 


Toi. Ti: L7 


258 COMEDIAS HEROICAS. [Perrop II. 


world down to the events of his own time; 
*219 but his favorite materials * were sought in 

Greek and Roman records, and especially in the 
chronicles and ballads of Spain itself. 

Of the manner in which he dealt with ancient his- 
tory, his “Roma Abrasada,” or Rome in Ashes, may 
be taken as a specimen, though certainly one of the 
least favorable specimens of the class to which it be- 
longs.?_ The facts on which it is founded are gathered 
from the commonest sources open to its author, — 
chiefly from the “General Chronicle of Spain”; but 
they are not formed into a well-constructed or even 
ingenious plot,? and they relate to the whole twenty 
years that elapsed between the death of Messalina, 
the reign of Claudius, and the death of Nero himself, 
who is not only the hero, but sometimes the gracioso, 
or droll, of the piece. 

The first act, which comes down to the murder of 
Claudius by Nero and Agrippina, contains the old jest 
of the Emperor asking why his wife does not come to 
dinner, after he had put her to death, and adds, for 
equally popular effect, abundant praises of Spain and 
of Lucan and Seneca, claiming both of them to be 
Spaniards, and making the latter an astrologer, as well 
as a moralist. ‘The second act shows Nero beginning 
his reign with great gentleness, and follows Suetonius 
and the old Chronicle in making him grieve that he 
knew how to write, since otherwise he could not have 
been required to sign an order for a just judicial exe- 
cution. The subsequent violent change in his con- 


2 Comedias, Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629, 111,) with the corresponding passages 
ff. 177, ete. It is entitled ‘‘Tragedia in the ‘‘ Roma Abrasada.” In one pas- 
- Famosa.” sage of Act III., Lope uses a ballad, 

8 It is worth while to compare Sue- the first lines of which occur in the 
tonius, (Books V. and VI.,) and the first act of the ‘‘Celestina.” 

‘Cronica General,” (Parte I. c. 110 and 


Cuar. XVI.] THE ROMA ABRASADA. 259 


duct is not, however, in any way explained or ac- 
counted for. It is simply set before the spectators 
as a fact, and from this moment begins the headlong 
career of his guilt. 

A curious scene, purely Spanish, is one of the early 
intimations of this change of character. Nero falls in 
love with Eta; but not at all in the Roman fashion. 
He visits her by night at her window, sings a sonnet 
to her, is interrupted by four men in disguise, kills one 
of them, and escapes from the pursuit of his 
own officers of justice * with difficulty; all,as * 220 
if he were a wandering knight so fair of the 
time of Philip the Third.* The more historical love 
for Poppza follows, with a shocking interview between 
Nero and his mother, in consequence of which he or- 
ders her to be at once put to death. The execution 
of this order, with the horrid exposure of her person 
afterwards, ends the act, which, gross as it is, does not 
sink to the revolting atrocities of the old Chronicle 
from which it is chiefly taken. 

The third act is so arranged as partly to gratify the 
national vanity and partly to conciliate the influence 
of the Church, of which Lope, like his contemporaries, 
always stood in awe. Several devout Christians, there- 
fore, are now introduced, and we have an edifying 
‘confession of faith, embracing the history of the world 
from the creation to the crucifixion, with an account 
of what the Spanish historians regard as the first of 
the twelve persecutions. The deaths of Seneca and 
Lucan follow; and then the conflagration of Rome, 
which, as it constitutes the show part of the play, and 
is relied on for the stage effect it would produce, is 


* This scene is in the second act, and forms that part of the play where Nero 
enacts the gracioso. 


260 THE PRINCIPE PERFETO. [Perrop II. 


brought in near the end, out of the proper order of the 
story, and after the building of Nero’s luxurious palace, 
the “aurea domus,’ which was really constructed in 
the desert the fire had left. The audience, meantime, 
have been put in good-humor by a scene in Spain, 
where a conspiracy is on foot to overthrow the Em- 
peror’s power; and the drama concludes with the 
death of Poppsea,— again less gross than the account 
of it in the Chronicle, — with Nero’s own death, and 
with the proclamation of Galba as his successor; all 
crowded into a space disproportionately small for in- 
cidents so important. 

But it was not often that Lope wrote so ill or so 
grossly. On modern, and especially on national sub- 
jects, he is almost always more fortunate, and some- 
times becomes powerful and imposing. Among these, 
as a characteristic, though not as a remarkably favor- 

able, specimen of his success, is to be placed the 
*221 “Principe Perfeto,’® *in which he intends to 

give his idea of a perfect prince under the 
character of Don John of Portugal, son of Alfonso the 
Fifth and contemporary with Ferdinand and Isabella, 
a full-length portrait of whom, by his friend and con- 
fidant, is drawn in the opening of the second act, with 
a minuteness of detail that leaves no doubt as to the 
qualities for which princes were valued in the age of 
the Philips, if not those for which they would be 
valued now. 

Elsewhere in the piece, Don John is represented to 
have fought bravely in the disastrous battle of Toro, — 
and to have voluntarily restored the throne to his 
father, who had once abdicated in his favor and had 
afterwards reclaimed the supreme power. Personal 

5 Comedias, Tom. XI., Barcelona, 1618, ff. 121, etc. 


Cuap. XVI.] THE PRINCIPE PERFETO. 261 


courage and strict justice, however, are the attributes 
most relied on to exhibit him as a perfect prince. Of 
the former he gives proof by killmg a man in self- 
defence, and entering into a bull-fight under the most 
perilous circumstances. Of the latter —his love of 
justice — many instances are brought on the stage, 
and, among the rest, his protection of Columbus, after 
the return of that great navigator from America, 
though aware how much his discoveries had redounded 
to the honor of a rival country, and how great had 
been his own error in not obtaining the benefit of 
them for Portugal. But the most prominent of these 
instances of justice relates to a private and personal 
history, and forms the main subject of the drama. It 
is as follows. 

Don Juan de Sosa, the king’s favorite, is twice sent 
by him to Spain on embassies of consequence, and, 
while residing there, lives in the family ‘of a gentleman 
connected with him by blood, to whose daughter, 
Leonora, he makes love, and wins her affections. Each 
time when Don Juan returns to Portugal, he forgets 
his pliighted faith and leaves the lady to languish. At 
last, she comes with her father to Lisbon in the train 
of the Spanish princess, Isabella, now married to the 
king’s son. But even there the false knight 
refuses to recognize his * obligations. In her *222 
despair, she presents herself to the king, and 
explains her position in the following conversation, 
which is a favorable specimen of the easy narrative in 
which resides so much of the charm of Lope’s drama. 
As Leonora enters, she exclaims : — 


Prince, whom in peace and war men perfect call, 
Listen a woman’s cry ! 
King. Begin ; — I hear 
Leonora. Fadrique —hé of ancient Lara’s house, 


262 THE PRINCIPE PERFETO. [Perrop II, 


And governor of Seville — is my sire. 

King. Pause there, and pardon first the courtesy 
That owes a debt to thy name and to his, 
Which ignorance alone could fail to pay. 

Leonora. Such condescending gentleness, my lord, 
Is worthy of the wisdom and the wit 
Which through the world are blazoned and admired. — 
But to my tale. Twice came there to Castile 
A knight from this thy land, whose name I hide 
Till all his frauds are manifest. For thou, 
My lord, dost love him in such wise, that, wert 
Thou other than thou art, my true complaints 
Would fear to seek a justice they in vain 
Would strive to find. Each time within our house 
He dwelt a guest, and from the very first 
He sought my love. 

King. Speak on, and let not shame 
Oppress thy words ; for to the judge and priest 
Alike confession’s voice should boldly come. 

Leonora. I was deceived. He went and left me sad 
To mourn his absence; for of them he is 
Who leave behind their knightly, nobler parts, 
When they themselves are long since fled and gone, 
Again he came, his voice more sweetly tuned, 
More siren-like, than ever. I heard the voice, 
Nor knew its hidden fraud. O, would that Heaven 
Had made us, in its highest justice, deaf, 
Since tongues so false it gave to men! He lured, 
He lured me as the fowler lures the bird 
In snares and meshes hid beneath the grass. 
I struggled, but in vain ; for Love, heaven’s child, 
Has power the mightiest fortress to subdue. 
He pledged his knightly word, —in writing pledged it, 
Trusting that afterwards, in Portugal, 
The debt and all might safely be denied ; — 
As if the heavens were narrower than the earth, 

' And justice not supreme. In short, my lord, 
He went ; and, proud and vain, the banners bore 
¥ 223 * That my submission marked, not my defeat ; 

For where love is, there comes no victory. 
His spoils he carried to his native land, 
As if they had been torn in heathen war 
From Africa ; such as in Arcila, 
In earliest youth, thyself with glory won ; 
Or such as now, from shores remote, thy ships 
Bring home, — dark slaves, to darker slavery. 
No written word of his came back to me. 
My honor wept its obsequies, and built its tomb 
With Love's extinguished torches. Soon, the prince, 


CHAP, XVI] 


King. 
Leonora. 
King. 


Leonora. 
King. 


THE PRINCIPE PERFETO. 263 


Thy son, was wed with our Infanta fair, — 
God grant it for a blessing to both realms ! — 
And with her, as ambassador, my sire 
To Lisbon came, and I with him. But here— 
Even here — his promises that knight denies, 
And so disheartens and despises me, 
That, if your Grace no remedy can find, 
The end of all must be the end of life, — 
So heavy is my misery. 
That scroll ? 

Thou hast it ? 

Surely. It were an error 
Not to be repaired, if I had lost it. 
It cannot be but I should know the hand, 
If he who wrote it in my household serve. 
This is the scroll, my lord. 

And John de Sosa’s is 

The signature! But yet, unless mine eyes 
Had seen and recognized his very hand, 
I never had believed the tale thou bring’st ; — 
So highly deem I of his faithfulness.® 


€ D. Leo. 


D. Leo. 


D. Leo. 


D. Leo. 


Principe, qu’ en paz, y en guerra, 
Te llama perfeto el mundo, 

Oye una muger! Rey. Comienga. 
Del gobernador Fadrique 

De Lara soy hija. Rey. Espera. 
Perdona al no conocerte 

La cortesia, que es deuda 

Digna 4 tu padre y 4 ti. 

Essa es gala y gentileza 

Digna de tu ingenio claro, 

Que el mundo admira y celebra. — 
Por dos vezes 4 Castilla 

Fue un fidalgo desta tierra, — 
Que quiero encubrir el nombre, 
Hasta que su engano sepas ; 
Porque le quieres de modo, 

Que temiera que mis quexas 

No hallaran justicia en ti, 

Si otro que tu mismo fueras. 
Poso entrambas en mi casa ; 
Solicito la primera 

Mi voluntad. Rey. Di adelante, 
Y no te oprima verguenca, 

Que tambien con los juezes 

Las personas se confiessan. 
Agradeci sus engajios. 

Partiose ; llore su ausencia ; 

Que las partes deste hidalgo, 
Quando el se parte, ellas quedan. 
Boluio otra vez, y boluio 

Mas dulcemente Sirena. 

Con la voz no vi el engafio. 

Ay, Dios! Sefior, si nacieran 


Deuio de ser con intento 

De no conocer la deuda, 

En estando en Portugal, 
Como si el cielo no fuera 
Cielo sobre todo el mundo, 
Y su justicia suprema, 

Al fin, Senior, el se fue, 
Ufano con las banderas 

De una muger ya rendida; 
Que donde hay amor, no hay fuerc& 
Despojos traxo 4 su patria, 
Como si de Africa fueran, 

De los Moros, que en Arcila 
Venciste en tu edad primera, 
O de los remotos mares, 

De cuyas blancas arenas 

Te traen negros esclauos 

Tus armadas Portuguesas. 
Nunca mas vi letra suya. 
Lloro mi amor sus obsequias, 
Hize el tumulo del llanto, 

Y de amor las hachas muertas. 
Caso el Principe tu hijo 

Con nuestra Infanta, que sea 
Para bien de entrambos reynos. 
Vino mi padre con ella. 

Vine con el a Lisboa, 

Donde este fidalgo niega 

Tan justas obligaciones, 

Y de suerte me desprecia, 
Que me ha de quitar la vida, 
Si tu Alteza no remedia 

De una muger la desdicha, 


Las mugeres sin oydos, Rey.  Viuelacedula? D. Leo. Fuera 
Ya que los hombres con lenguas. Error no auerla guardado. 
Liamome al fin, como suele Rey. Yo conocere la letra, 

A la perdiz la cautela Si es criado de mi casa 

Del cacador engafioso, D. Leo. Senor, la cedula es esta. 

Las redes entre la yerua. Rey.  Lafirma dize, Don Juan 


Resistime ; mas que importa, 
Si la mayor fortaleza 

No contradize el amor, 

Que es hijo de las estrellas? 
Una cedula me hizo 

De ser mi marido, y esta 


De Sosa! No lo creyera, 
A no conocer la firma, 
De su virtud y prudencia. 


Comedias de Lope de Vega, Tom. XI, 


Barcelona, 1618, ff. 148, 144. 


264 MUNDO. 


THE NUEVO [Preriop If. 
*224 *The dénouement naturally consists in the mar- 

riage, which is thus made a record of the king’s 
perfect justice. 

Columbus, as we have intimated, appears in this 
piece. He is introduced with little skill, but the 
dignity of his pretensions 1s not forgotten. In another 
drama, devoted to the discovery of America, and 
called “The New World of Columbus,” his character is 
further and more truly developed. The play itself 
embraces the events of the great Admiral’s life be- 
tween his first vain effort to obtain countenance in 
Portugal and his triumphant presentation of the spoils 
of the New World to Ferdinand and Isabella at Barce- 
lona, —a period amounting to about fourteen years.’ 
It is one of Lope’s more wild and extravagant at- 
tempts, but it is not without marks of his peculiar 
talent, and it fully embodies the national feeling in 
regard to America, as a world rescued from heathenism. 
Some of its scenes are laid in Portugal; others on the 
plain of Granada, at the moment of its fall; others in 
the caravel of Columbus during the mutiny; and yet 
others in the West Indies, and before his sovereigns 
on his return home. 

*Among the personages, besides such as 
might be reasonably anticipated from the 
course of the story, are Gonzalvo de Cordova, sundry 
Moors, several American Indians, and several spiritual 
beings, such as Providence, Christianity, and Idolatry ; 


* 225 


This passage is near the end of the 
piece, and leads to the dénowement by 
one of those flowing narratives, like an 
Italian novella, to which Lope frequent- 
ly resorts, when the intriguing fable of 
the drama has been carried far enough 
to fill up the three customary acts. 
Arcila,. referred to in the text with 
skill, was taken from the Moors the 
24th of August, 1471. 


7 Comedias, Tom. IV., Madrid, 1614; 
and also in the Appendix to Ochoa’s 
“‘Teatro Escogido de Lope de Vega” 
(Paris, 1838, 8vo). Fernando de Zarate 
took some of the materials for his ‘‘Con- 
quista de Mexico,” (Comedias Escogi- 
das, Tom. XXX., Madrid, 1668,) such 
as the opening of Jornada II., from this 
play of Lope de Vega. 


Cuar. XVI] THE NUEVO MUNDO. 265 


the last of whom struggles with great vehemence, at 
the tribunal of Providence, against the introduction 
of the Spaniards and their religion into the New 
World, and in passages like the following seems in 
danger of having the best of the argument. 

O Providence Divine, permit them not 

To do me this most plain unrighteousness ! 

’T is but base avarice that spurs them on. 

Religion is the color and the cloak ; 

But gold and silver, hid within the earth, 

Are all they truly seek and strive to win.§ 

The greater part of the action and the best portions | 
of it pass in the New World; but it is difficult to ima- 
gine anything more extravagant than the whole fable. 
Dramatic propriety is constantly set at naught. The 
Indians, before the appearance of Europeans among 
them, sing about Phoebus and Diana; and while, from 
the first, they talk nothing but Spanish, they frequent- 
ly pretend, after the arrival of the Spaniards, to be un- 
able to understand a word of their language. The 
scene in which Idolatry pleads its cause against Chris- 
tianity before Divine Providence, the scenes with the 
Demon, and those touching the conversion of the hea- 
then, might have been presented in the rudest of the 
old Moralities. Those, on the contrary, in which the 
natural feelings and jealousies of the simple and igno- 
rant natives are brought out, and those in which Co- 
lumbus appears, — always dignified and gentle, — are 
not without merit. Few, however, can be said to be 
truly good or poetical; and yet a poetical interest is 
kept up through the worst of them, and the story 
they involve is followed to the end with a living cu-— 
rlosity. 


8 No permitas, Providencia, So color de religion, 
Hacerme esta sinjusticia ; Van 4 buscar plata y oro 
Pues los lleua la codicia Del encubierto tesoro. 


A hacer esta diligencia. El Nuevo Mundo, Jorn. I. 


266 THE CASTIGO SIN VENGANZA. [Prrrop II. 


The common traditions are repeated, that 
* 226 Columbus * was born at Nervi, and that he re- 
ceived from a dying pilot at Madeira the charts 
that led him to his grand adventure; but it is singu- 
lar, that, in contradiction to all this, Lope, in other 
parts of the play, should have hazarded the suggestion, 
that Columbus was moved by Divine inspiration. The 
friar, in the scene of the mutiny, declares it expressly ; 
and Columbus himself, in his discourse with his brother 
Bartholomew, when their fortunes seemed all but des- 
perate, plainly alludes to it, when he says :— 
A hidden Deity still drives me on, 
Bidding me trust the truth of what I feel, 
And, if I watch, or if I sleep, impels 
The strong will boldly to work out its way. 
But what is this that thus possesses me ? 
What spirit is it drives me onward thus ? 
Where am I borne? What is the road I take? 
What track of destiny is.this I tread ? 
And what the impulse that I blindly follow ? 
Am I not poor, unknown, a broken man, 
Depending on the pilot’s anxious trade # 
And shall I venture on the mighty task 
To add a distant world to this we know ?9 
The conception of the character in this particular is 
good, and, being founded, as we know it was, on the 
personal convictions of Columbus himself, might have 
been followed out by further developments with poet- 
ical effect. Butthe opportunity is neglected, and, like 
many other occasions for success, is thrown away by 
Lope, through haste and carelessness. 
Another of the dramas of this class, “ El Castigo sin 


Venganza,” or “Punishment, not Revenge,” is impor- 


9 Una secreta deidad ‘Que derrota, que destino 
A que lo intente me impele, Sigo, 6 me conduce aqui? 
Diciéndome que es verdad, Un hombre pobre, y aun roto, 
Que en fin, que duerma 6 que vele, Que ansi lo puedo decir, 
Persigue ri voluntad. Y que vive de pilcto, 
Que es esto que ha entrado en mi? Quiere 4 este mundo anadir 
Quien me lleva “ mueve ansi ? Otro mundo tan remoto! 


Donde voy, donde camino? El Nuevo Mundo, Jorn. I. 


Cuar. XVI.) THE CASTIGO SIN VENGANZA. 267 


tant from the mode in which its subject is treated, and 
interesting from the circumstance that its history 

can be more exactly traced than that of *any * 227 
other of Lope’s plays. It is founded on the 

dark and hideous story in the annals of Ferrara, dur- 
ing the fifteenth century, which Lord Byron found in 
Gibbon’s “ Antiquities of the House of Brunswick,” and 
made the subject of his “Parisina,” ” but which Lope, 
following the old chronicles of the duchy, has presented 
in a somewhat different light, and thrown with no little 
skill into a dramatic form. 

The Duke of Ferrara, in his tragedy, is a person of 
mark and spirit,—a commander of the Papal forces, 
and a prince of statesmanlike experience and virtues. 
He marries when already past the middle age of life, 
and sends his natural son, Frederic, to receive his 
beautiful bride, a daughter of the Duke of Mantua, and 
to conduct her to Ferrara. Before he reaches Mantua, 
however, Frederic meets her accidentally on the way ; 
and his first interview with his step-mother is when he 
rescues her from drowning. From this moment they 
become gradually more and more attached to each 
other, until their attachment ends in guilt; partly 
through the strong impulses of their own natures, and 
partly from the coldness and faithlessness of the Duke 
to his young and passionate wife. 

On his return home from a successful campaign, the 
Duke discovers the intrigue. A struggle ensues be- 
tween his affection for his son and the stinging sense 
of his own dishonor. At last he determines to punish; 
but m such a manner as tc hide the grounds of his 

10 The story was well known, from Lope, in the Preface to his version of it, 
its peculiar horrors, though the events says it was extant in Latin, French, 


occurred in 1405, — more than twocen- German, Tuscan, and Castilian. 
turies before the date of the play. 


268 THE CASTIGO SIN VENGANZA. [Pertop II. 


offence. To effect this, he confines his wife in a dar- 
kened room, and so conceals and secures her person, 
that she can neither move, nor speak, nor be seen. 
He then sends his offending son to her, under the pre- 
tence that beneath the pall that hides her is placed 
a traitor, whom the son is required to kill in order 
to protect his father’s life; and when the desperate 

young man rushes from the room, ignorant who 
*228 has been his victim, he is instantly cut * down 

by the bystanders, on his father’s outcry, that 
he has just murdered his step-mother, with whose 
blood his hands are, in fact, visibly reeking. | 

Lope finished this play on the Ist of August, 1631, 
when he was nearly sixty-nine years old; and yet 
there are few of his dramas, in the class to which 
it belongs, that are more marked with poetical vigor, 
and in none is the versification more light and vari- 
ous." The characters, especially those of the father 
and son, are better defined and better sustained than 
usual; and the whole was evidently written with care, 
for there are not infrequently large alterations, as well 
as many minute verbal corrections, in the original 
manuscript, which is still extant. 

It was not licensed for representation till the 9th 
of May, 1632, — apparently from the known unwilling- 
ness of the court to have persons of rank, like the 
Duke of Ferrara, brought upon the stage in a light so 
odious. At any rate, when the tardy permission was 
granted, it was accompanied with a certificate that the 
Duke was treated with the decorum “due to his 
person”; though, even with this assurance, it was 
acted but once, notwithstanding it made a strong 


11 This play contains all the usual va- a sonnet, etc. ; but especially, in the 
rieties of measure,—vredondillas, tercetas, first act, a stlva of beautiful fluency. 


Car. XVI.] 269 


THE CASTIGO SIN YVENGANZA. 


impression at the time, and was brought out by the com- 
pany of Figueroa, the most successful of the period, — 
Arias, whose acting Montalvan praises highly, taking 
the part of the son.” In 1634, Lope printed it, with 
more than common care, at Barcelona, dedicating it 
to his great patron, the Duke of Sessa, among “the 
servants of whose house,” he says, “he was inscribed” ; 
and the next year, immediately after his death, it 
appeared again, without the Dedication, in the twenty- 
first volume of his plays, prepared anew by himself 
for the press, but published by his daughter Feli- 


clana.!? 


* Like “Punishment, not Vengeance,” several * 229 
other dramas of its class are imbued with the 


deepest spirit of tragedy. 


12 Gayangos says, that the reason the 
representation was stopped was from a 
supposed allusion in the story to the 
case of Don Carlos. I do not know on 
what ground he says it, and it does not 
seem probable. 

18 ] possess the original MS., entire- 
ly in Lope’s handwriting, with many 
alterations, corrections, and interlinea- 
tions by himself. It is prepared for the 
actors, and has the license for repre- 
senting it by Pedro de Vargas Machuca, 
a poet himself, and Lope’s friend, who 
was much employed to license plays for 
the theatre. He also figured at the 
‘*Justas Poéticas” of San Isidro, pub- 
lished by Lope in 1620 and 1622; and 
in the ‘‘ Justa” in honor of the Virgen 
del Pilar, published by Caceres in 1629 ; 
in neither of which, however, do his 
poems give proof of much talent, though 
there is no doubt of his popularity with 
his contemporaries. (Alvarez y Baena, 
Hijos de Madrid, Tom. IV. p. 199.) 
He claimed to be descended from the 
Diego Perez de Vargas of the Ballads 
and Chronicles, who, having lost his 
arms of offence at the battle of Xerez 
in the time of St. Ferdinand, tore off 
the branch of an olive-tree, and so be- 
labored the Moors with it that he re- 
ceived the sobriquet of ‘* Machuca,” or 
the Pounder. (Almela Valerio de las 


“The Knights Command- 


Hystorias Escolasticas, Toledo, 1541, f. 
15, a. — Lope de Vega, Laurel de Apolo, 
1630, f. 75.) At the top of each page 
in the MS. of Lope de Vega is a cross 
with the names or ciphers of ‘‘ Jesus, 
Maria, Josephus, Christus” ; and at the 
end, ‘‘ Laus Deo et Marie Virgini,” 
with the date of its completion and the 
signature of theauthor. Whether Lope 
thought it possible to consecrate the 
gross immoralities of such a drama by 
religious symbols, I do not know ; but 
if he did, it would not be inconsistent 
with his character or the spirit of his 
time. <A cross was commonly put at 
the top of Spanish letters, — a practice 
alluded to in Lope’s ‘‘ Perro del Horte- 
lano,” (Jornada IT.,) and one that must 
have led often to similar incongruities. 
But this seems to have been discontin- 
ued at the end of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. At least, in a drama acted then, 
where reforms in the beginning of MSS. 
are proposed, one asks, whether any- 
thing is to be done with the cross. To 
which the other answers : — 
Esa esta ja reformada ; 


Porque si uno escribe al diablo 
No se espante de la carta. 


Juzgado Casero, 1786, p. 152. 





Nay, this has been reformed already, 
Lest, when we send the Devil a letter, 
He should be frighted when he opens it. 


270 THE ESTRELLA DE SEVILLA. [Perrop II, 


ers of Cordova” is an instance in point.* It is a 
parallel to the story of Adgisthus and Clytemnestra in 
its horrors; but the husband, instead of meeting the 
fate of Agamemnon, puts to death, not only his guilty 
wife, but all his servants and every living thing in 
his household, to satisfy his savage sense of honor. 
Poetry is abundant in many of its scenes, but the 
atrocities of the rest will hardly permit it to be. per- 
ceived. 

“The Star of Seville,’ on the other hand, though 
much more truly tragic, is hable to no such objection.” 
In some respects it resembles Corneille’s “Cid.” At 

the command of his king, and from the truest 
* 230 * Castilian loyalty, a knight of Seville kills his 

friend, a brother of the lady whom he is about 
to marry. The king afterwards endeavors to hold him 
harmless for the crime; but the royal judges refuse to 
interrupt the course of the law in his favor, and the 
brave knight is saved from death only by the plenary 
confession of his guilty sovereign. It is one of the 
very small number of Lope’s pieces that have no comic 


14 Comedias, Tom. II. Madrid, 1609. 
Thrice at least, — viz. in this play, in 
his ‘‘Fuente Ovejuna,” and in his 
‘¢ Peribafiez,” — Lope has shown us 
commanders of the great military orders 
of his country in very odious colors, 
representing them as men of the most 
fierce pride and the grossest passions, 
like the Front-de-Beeuf of Ivanhoe. 

15 Old copies of this play are exces- 
sively scarce, and I obtained, therefore, 
many years ago, a manuscript of it, 
from which it was reprinted twice in 
this country by Mr. F. Sales, in his 
“* Obras Maestras Dramaticas”’ (Boston, 
1828 and 1840) ; the last time with cor- 
rections, kindly furnished by Don A. 
Duran, of Madrid ;—a curious fact in 
Spanish bibliography, and one that 
should be mentioned to the honor of 
Mr. Sales, whose various publications 
have done much to spread the love of 
Spanish literature in the United States, 


and to whom I am indebted for my first 
knowledge of it. The same play is well 
known on the modern Spanish stage, 
and has been reprinted, both at Madrid 
and London, with large alterations, 
under the title of ‘‘Sancho Ortiz de las 
Roelas.” An excellent abstract of it, 
in its original state, and faithful trans- 
lations of parts of it, are to be found in 
Lord Holland’s Life of Lope (Vol. I. 
pp. 155-200) ; out of which, and not 
out of the Spanish original, Baron 
Zedlitz composed ‘‘ Der Stern von Se- 
villa” ; a play by no means without 
merit, which was printed at Stuttgard 
in 1830, and has been often acted in 
different parts of Germany. The locali- 
ties referred to in the ‘‘ Estrella de 
Sevilla,” including the house of Bustos 
Tabera, the lover of Estrella, are still 
shown at Seville. Latour, Etudes sur 
l’Espagne, Paris, 1855, Tom. II. p. 52, 
etc. | 


Cuar. XVI.] VARIOUS HISTORICAL DRAMAS. PA 


and distracting underplot, and is to be placed among 
the loftiest of his efforts. Not a few of its scenes are 
admirable ; especially that in which the king urges the 
knight to kill his friend; that in which the lovely and 
innocent creature whom the knight is about to marry 
receives, in the midst of the frank and delightful ex- 
pressions of her happiness, the dead body of her 
brother, who has been slain by her lover; and that in 
which the Alcaldes solemnly refuse to wrest the law 
in obedience to the royal commands. The conclusion 
is better than that in the tragedy of Corneille. The 
lady abandons the world and retires to a convent. 
Of the great number of Lope’s heroic dramas’ on 
national subjects, a few may be noticed, in order to in- 
dicate the direction he gave to this division of his the- 
atre. One, for instangeg, is on the’ story of ,Bamba, 
taken from the plough to be made king of Spain;” 
and another, “The Last Goth,” is on the popular tradi- 
tions of the loss of Spain by Roderic ;” — the first be- 
ing among the earliest of his Pea elicd plays,’ and the 
lost not published till twelve years after his | 
death, but both * written in one spirit and upon * 231 
the same system. On the attractive subject of 
Bernardo del Carpio he has several dramas. One is 
called “The Youthful Adventures of Bernardo,’ and 
relates his exploits down to the time when he discov- 
ered the secret of his birth. Another, called “ Achieve- 
ments of Bernardo del Carpio,” I have never seen, but 
it is among the plays Lord Holland had read. Anda 
third, “ Marriage in Death,” involves the misconduct of 


16 Comedias, Tom. I., Valladolid, 17 Comedias, Tom. XXV., Caragoca, 
1604, ff. 91, ete., in which Lope has 1647, ff. 369, etc. It is called “ Tragi- 
W isely followed the old monkish tradi- comedia.” 
tions, rather than either the ‘‘ Cronica 18 The first edition of the first volume 
General,” (Parte II. c. 51,) or the yet of Lope’s plays is that of Valladolid, 
more sobered account of Mariana (Hist., 1604. See Brunet, etc. 

Tab, VL. ¢. 12), 


272 


VARIOUS HISTORICAL DRAMAS. [Prertop II. 


King Alfonso, and the heart-rending scene in which 
the dead body of Bernardo’s father is delivered to the 
hero, who has sacrificed everything to filial piety, and 
now finds himself crushed and ruined by it.” The 
seven Infantes of Lara are not passed over, as we see 
both in the play that bears their name, and in the 
more striking one on the story of Mudarra, “ El Bas- 
tardo Mudarra.”” Indeed, it seems as if no available 
point in the national annals were missed by Lope ;” 
and that, after bringing on the stage the great events 
in Spanish history and tradition consecutively down to 
his own times, he looks round on all sides for subjects, 
at home and abroad, taking one from the usurpation 
of Boris Gudunow at Moscow, in 1606,” another from 
the conquest of Arauco, in 1560,” and another from 
the great league that ended with the battle of Lepanto 
in 1571; in which last, to avoid the awkwardness of a 
sea-fight on the stage, he is guilty of introducing 
*232 the greater awkwardness of an allegorical * fig- 
ure of Spain describing the battle to the au- 
dience in Madrid, at the very moment when it is sup- 
posed to be going on near the shores of Greece.™ 


19 The first two of these plays, which 
are not to be found in the collected dra- 
matic works of Lope, have often been 
printed separately ; but the last occurs, 
I believe, only in the first volume of the 
Comedias, (Valladolid, 1604, f. 98,) and 
in the reprints of it. It makes free 
use of the old ballads of Durandarte 
and Belerma. 

20 The ‘‘Siete Infantes de Lara’ is 
in the Comedias, Tom. V., Madrid, 
1615, and the ‘‘ Bastardo Mudarra”’ is 
in Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641. 

21 Thus, the attractive story of ‘‘ El 
Mejor Alcalde el Rey” is, as he himself 
tells us at the conclusion, taken from 
a fourth part of the ‘‘Crdénica Gen- 
eral,” 

22 « Fl Gran Duque de Muscovia,” 
Comedias, Tom. VII., Madrid, 1617. 

73 «* Arauco Domado,” Comedias, 
Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629. The scene 


is laid about 1560; but the play is in- 
tended as a compliment to the living 
son of the conqueror. In the Dedica- 
tion to him, Lope asserts it to be a true 
history ; but there is, of course, much 
invention mingled with it, especially in 
the parts that do honor to the Span- 
iards. Among its personages is the an- 
thor of the ‘‘ Araucana,’’ Alonso de 
Ercilla, who comes upon the stage beat- 
ing adrum! Another and earlier play 
of Lope may be compared with the 
‘‘Arauco”; I mean ‘‘ Los Guanches 
de Tenerife” (Comedias, Tom. X., Ma- 
drid, 1620, f. 128). It is on the simi- 
lar subject of the conquest of the Ca- 
nary Islands, in the time of Ferdinand 
and Isabella, and, as in the ‘‘ Arauco 
Domado,” the natives occupy much of 
the canvas. 

24 <<Ta Santa Liga,” Comedias, Tom. 
XV., Madrid, 1621. 


Cuar. XVI.] VARIOUS HISTORICAL DRAMAS. OTs 


The whole class of these heroic and historical dra- 
mas, it should be remembered, makes little claim to 
historical accuracy. A love story, filled as usual with 
hairbreadth escapes, jealous quarrels, and questions of 
honor, runs through nearly every one of them; and 
though, in some cases, we may trust to the facts set 
before us, as we must in “The Valiant Cespedes,” 
where the poet gravely declares that all except the 
love adventures are strictly true,” still in no case 
can it be pretended, that the manners of an earlier 
age, or of foreign nations, are respected, or that the 
general coloring of the representation 1s to be regarded 
as faithful. Thus, in one play, we see Nero hurrying 
about the streets of Rome, like a Spanish gallant, with 
a guitar on his arm, and making love to his mistress 
at her grated window.” In another, Belisarius, in the 
days of his glory, is selected to act the part of Pyra- 
mus in an interlude before the Emperor Justinian, 
much as if he belonged to Nick Bottom’s company, and 
afterwards has his eyes put out, on a charge of mak- 


ing love to the Empress.” 


And in yet a third, Cyrus 


the Great, after he is seated on his throne, marries 


25 <*F] Valiente Cespedes,’’ Comedias, 
Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629. This notice 
is specially given to the reader by Lope, 
out of tenderness to the reputation of 
Dofia Maria de Cespedes, who does not 
appear in the play with all the dig- 
nity which those who, in Lope’s time, 
claimed to be descended from her might 
exact at his hands. 

26 In ‘‘Roma Abrasada,” Acto II. f. 
89, already noticed, ante, p. 219. 

27 Jornada II. of ‘‘Exemplo Mayor 
de la Desdicha, y Capitan Belisario” ; 
not in the collection of Lope’s plays, 
and though often printed separately as 
his, and inserted as such on Lord Hol- 
land’s list, it is published in the old 
and curious collection entitled ‘* Come- 
dias de Diferentes Autores,” (4to, Tom. 
XXYV., Zaragoza, 1633,) as the work of 


VOL. II. 18 


Montalvan, both he and Lope being 
then alive. And, after all, it turns out 
to belong to neither of them, for Von 
Schack found, in the Duke of Ossuna’s 
admirable collection at Madrid, this 
very play in the handwriting of Mira 
de Mescua, and signed by him as its 
author. What renders the affair more 
odd is, that there is, with the autograph 
play, the autograph aprovacion of Lope, 
containing a graceful compliment to 
Mira de Mescua as the author, and 
dated July, 1625. (Nachtrige, 1854, 
8vo, p. 57.) I leave both text and 
note, published severai years before the 
date of this discovery, as they were origi- 
nally printed, because they afford such 
amusing proof of a recklessness not un- 
common among the publishers of Span- 
ish dramas in the seventeenth century. 


274 VARIOUS HISTORICAL DRAMAS. [Perron II. 


*233 a shepherdess.% But there *is no end to such 
absurdities in Lope’s plays; and the explana- 
tion of them all is, that they were not felt to be such 
at the time. Truth and faithfulness in regard to the 
facts, manners, and costume of a drama were not sup- 
posed to be more important, in the age of Lope, than 
an observation of the unities;— not more important 
than they were supposed to be a. century later, in 
France, in the unending romances of Calprenéde and 
Scudéry ;— not more important than they are deemed 
in an Italian opera now:—so profound is the thought 
of the greatest of all the masters of the historical dra- 
ma, that “the best in this kind are but shadows, and 
the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.” 


28 “*Contra Valor no hay Desdicha.” in consequence of his grandfather’s 
Like the last, it has been often re- dream, and ends with a battle and his 
printed. It begins with the romantic victory over Astyages and all his ene- 
account of Cyrus’s exposure to death, mies. 


5 AG SS Sa A a A Ul * 234 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED.— DRAMAS THAT ARE FOUNDED ON THE MANNERS 
OF COMMON LIFE.—THE WISE MAN AT HOME.—THE DAMSEL THEODORA. 
— CAPTIVES IN ALGIERS.—INFLUENCE OF THE CHURCH ON THE DRAMA. 
—LOPE’S PLAYS FROM SCRIPTURE.— THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.—THE OREA- 
TION OF THE WORLD.—LOPE’S PLAYS ON THE LIVES OF SAINTS.—SAINT 
ISIDORE OF MADRID.—LOPER’S SACRAMENTAL AUTOS FOR THE FESTIVAL 
OF THE CORPUS CHRISTI.—THEIR PROLOGUES.— THEIR INTERLUDES. — 
THE AUTOS THEMSELVES. 


THE historical drama of Lope was but a deviation 
from the more truly national type of the “ Comedia de 
Capa y Espada,” made by the introduction of historical 
names for its leading personages, instead of those that 
belong to fashionable and knightly life. This, how- 
ever, was not the only deviation he made." He went 
sometimes quite as far on the other side, and created a 
variety or subdivision of the theatre, founded on common 
hfe, in which’ the chief personages, like those of “The 
Watermaid,” and “The Slave of her Lover,” belong to 


the lower classes of society.” 


Of such dramas, he has 


left only a few, but these few are interesting. 
* Perhaps the best specimen of them is “The * 235 
Wise Man at Home,” in which the hero, if he 


1 We occasionally meet with the 
phrase comedias de ruido; but it does 
not mean a class of plays separated from 
the others by different rules of composi- 
tion. It refers to the machinery used in 
their exhibition ; so that comedias de 
capa y espada, and especially comedias de 
santos, which often demanded a large ap- 
paratus, were not unfrequently comedias 
de ruido, otherwise called comedias de 
caso or comedias de fabrica. In the 
same way comedias de apariencias were 
plays demanding much scenery and 
scene-shifting. 


2 ‘Ta Moza de Cantaro” and ‘La 
Esclava desu Galan” have continued to 
be favorites down to our own times. 
The first was printed at London, not 
many years ago, and the last at Paris, 
in Ochoa’s collection, 1838, 8vo, and at 
Bielefeld, in that of Schiitz, 1840, 8vo. 

Lope sometimes went very low down, 
among courtesans and rogues, for the 
subjects of his plays; as in the ‘‘ An- 
zuelo de Fenisa,”’ (the story of which, I 
suppose, he took from the Decameron, 
Villth day, 10th tale,) ‘‘ El Rufian Di- 
choso,” and some others. 


276 DRAMAS ON COMMON LIFE. (Perrop IT. 


may be so called, 1s Mendo, the son of a pocr charcoal- 
burner.’ He has married the only child of a respect- 
able farmer, and is in an easy condition of life, with 
the road to advancement, at least in a gay course, 
open before him. But he prefers to remain where he 
is. He refuses’ the solicitations of a neighboring law- 
yer or clerk, engaged in public affairs, who would have 
the honest Mendo take upon himself the airs of an 
lidalgo and caballero. Especially upon what was then 
the great point in private life, — his relations with his 
pretty wife, —he shows his uniform good sense, while 
his more ambitious friend falls into serious embarrass- 
ments, and is obliged at last to come to him for coun- 
sel and help. 

The doctrine of the piece is well explained in the 
following reply of Mendo to his friend, who had 
been urging him to lead a more showy life, and raise 
the external circumstances of his father. 


He that was born to live in humble state 

Makes but an awkward knight, do what you will. 
My father means to die as he has lived, 

The same plain collier that he always was ; 

And I, too, must an honest ploughman die. 

"T is but a single step, or up or down ; 

For men there must be that will plough and dig, 
And, when the vase has once been filled, be sure 

’T will always savor of what first it held.* 


The story is less important than it is in many of 
Lope’s dramas; but the sketches of common life are 


3 Comedias, Tom. VI., Madrid, 1615, $ a Nae ase para ees 
7 al puede Ser caualero. 
ff. 101, etc. It may be worth notice, Miieaisaicuiereniore! 
that the character of Mendo i: like that Leonardo, como nacio. 
of Camacho in the Second Part of Don Carbonero me engendro ; 
Quixote, which was first printed in the Labrador quiero morir. 


¥ al fin c3 un grado mas, 


same year, 1615. The resemblance be- Aya quien are y quien caue. 
tween the two, however, is not very Siempre el vaso al licor sebe. 
strong, and perhaps is wholly acciden- Comedias, Tom. VI., Madrid, 1615, f. 117.. 


tal, although Lope was not careful to 
make acknowledgments. 


Cuar. XVII.) THE DONZELLA TEODOR. yi i 


sometimes spirited, like the one in which Mendo de- 
scribes his first sight of his future wife, busied 
in household work, and * the elaborate scene 
where his first child is christened. The char- 
acters, on the other hand, are better defined and 
drawn than is common with him; and that of the 
plain, practically wise Mendo is sustained, from begin- 
ning to end, with consistency and skill, as well as with 
good dramatic effect.® 

Another of these more domestic pieces is called 
“The Damsel Theodora,” and shows how gladly and 
with what ingenuity Lope seized on the stories current 
in his time and turned them to dramatic account. 
The tale he now used, which bears the same title with 
the play, and is extremely simple in its structure, is 
claimed to have been written by an Aragonese, of 
whom we know only that his name was Alfonso.’ The 
damsel Theodora, in this original fiction, is a slave in 
Tunis, and belongs to a Hungarian merchant living 


* 236 


5 There is in these passages some- 
thing of the euphuistical style then in 
favor, under the name of the estilo culto, 
with which Lope sometimes humored 
the more fashionable portions of his 
audience, though on other occasions 
he bore a decided testimony against 
it. 

6 This play, I think, gave the hint 
to Calderon for his ‘‘ Alcalde de Zala- 
mea,’ in which the character of Pedro 
Crespo, the peasant, is drawn with more 
than his accustomed distinctness. It 
is the last piece in the common collec- 
tion of Calderon’s Comedias, and nearly 
all its characters are happily touched. 

7 This is among the more curious of 
the old popular Spanish tales. N. An- 
tonio (Bib. Nov., Tom. I. p. 9) assigns 
no age to its author, and no date to the 
published story. Denis, in his ‘‘ Chro- 
niques de |’ Espagne,” etc., (Paris, 1839, 
8vo, Tom. I. p. 285,) gives no addi- 
tional light, but, in one of his notes, 
treats its ideas on natural history as 
those of the moyen dge. It seems, how- 
ever, from internal evidence, to have 


been composed after the fall of Granada. 
Gayangos gives editions of the ‘‘ Don- 
zella Teodor” in 1537 and 1540, and 
mentions an Arabic version of it, which 
leads him to the conjecture that the 
Aragonese, Alfonso, to whom Antonio 
attributes the story, is no other than 
the converted Jew, Pedro Alfonso, who 
in the twelfth century wrote the ‘‘ Dis- 
ciplina Clericalis.” (See ante, Vol. I. 
pp. 63, 64, note, and the Spanish trans- 
lation of this History, Tom. II. pp. 
353-357.) But I cannot think it is 
older than the time of Charles V. ; 
probably not older than the capture of 
Tunis, in 1585. The copy I use is of 
1726, showing that it was in favor in 
the eighteenth century ; and I possess 
another printed for popular circulation 
about 1845. We find early allusions to 
the Donzella Teodor, as a well-known 
personage ; for example, in ‘* The Mod- 
est Man at Court” of Tirso de Molina, 
where one of the characters, speaking 
of a lady he admires, cries out, ‘‘ Que 
Donzella Teodor!” Cigarrales de To- 
ledo, Madrid, 1624, 4to, p. 158. 


278 THE CAUTIVOS DE ARGEL. [Peron II. 


there, who has lost his whole fortune. At her sugges- 
tion, she is offered by her master to the king of Tunis, 
who is so much struck with her beauty and with the 
amount of her knowledge, that he purchases her at 
a price which re-establishes her master’s condition. 
The pomt of the whole consists in the exhibition 
of this knowledge through discussions with 
*2357 *learned men; but the subjects are most of 
them of the commonest kind, and the merit 
of the story is quite imconsiderable, —less, for in- 
stance, than that of “Friar Bacon,’ in English, to 
which, in several respects, it may be compared. ° 
But Lope knew his audiences, and succeeded in 
adapting this old tale to their taste. The damsel The- 
odora, as he arranges her character for the stage, is 
the daughter of a professor at Toledo, and is educated 
in all the learning of her father’s schools. She, how- 
ever, is not raised by it above the influences of the 
tender passion, and, running away with her lover, is 
captured by a vessel from the coast of Barbary, and 
carried as a slave successively to Oran, to Constantino- 
ple, and finally to Persia, where she is sold to the 
Sultan for an immense sum on account of her rare 
knowledge, displayed in the last act of the play much 
as it is in the original tale of Alfonso, and sometimes 
in the same words. But the love intrigue, with a 
multitude of jealous troubles and adventures, runs 
through the whole; and as the Sultan is made to 
understand at last the relations of all the parties, who 
are strangely assembled before him, he gives the price 


8 The popular English story of ‘‘Fry- in 1594. Both may be considered as 
er Bacon” hardly goes back further running parallel with the story and 
than to the end of the sixteenth cen- play of the ‘‘Donzella Teodor,” so as 
tury, though some of its materials may to be read with advantage when com- 
be traced to the ‘‘Gesta Romanorum.” paring the Spanish drama with the 
Robert Greene’s play on it was printed English. 


Car. XVIL.] THE CAUTIVOS DE ARGEL. 279 


of the damsel as her dower, and marries her to the 
lover with whom she originally fled from Toledo. 
The principal jest, both in the drama and the story, is, 
that a learned doctor, who is defeated by Theodora in 
a public trial of wits, is bound by the terms of the 
contest to be stripped naked, and buys off his ignominy 
with a sum which goes still further to increase the 
lady’s fortune and the content of her husband.’ 

The last of Lope’s plays to be noticed among those 
whose subjects are drawn from common life is a more © 
direct appeal, perhaps, than any other of its class to 
the popular feeling. It is his “ Captives in Algiers,” 
and has been already alluded to as partly bor- 
rowed or pilfered *from a play of Cervantes. * 238 
In its first scenes, a Morisco of Valencia leaves 
the land where his race had suffered so cruelly, and, 
after establishing himself among those of his own faith 
in Algiers, returns by night as a corsair, and, from his 
familiar knowledge of the Spanish coast, where he was 
born, easily succeeds in carrying off a number of 
Christian captives. The fate of these victims, and that 
of others whom they find in Algiers, including a lover 
and his mistress, form the subject of the drama. In the 
course of it, we have scenes in which Christian Spaniards 
are publicly sold in the slave-market; Christian chil- 
dren torn from their parents and cajoled out of their 
faith ;” and a Christian gentleman made to suffer the 
most dreadful forms of martyrdom for his religion ; — in 
short, we have set before us whatever could most pain- 
fully and powerfully excite the interest and sympathy 
of an audience in Spain at a moment when such multi- 

® Comedias, Tom. IX., Barcelona, 11 These passages are much indebted 
1618, ff. 27, etc. to the ‘‘Trato de Argel” of Cervan- 


10 Comedias, Tom. XXV., Caragoga, tes. 
1647, ff. 231, etc. 


280 THE CAUTIVOS DE ARGEL. [Periop II. 


tudes of Spanish families were mourning the captivity 
of their children and friends.* It ends with an ac- 
count of a play to be acted by the Christian slaves in 
one of their vast prison-houses, to celebrate the recent 
marriage of Philip the Third; from which, as well as 
from a reference to the magnificent festivities that 
followed it at Denia, in which Lope, as we know, took 
part, we may be sure that the “Cautivos de Argel” 
was written as late as 1698, and probably not much 
later. 

A love-story unites its rather incongruous materials 
into something lke a connected whole; but the part 
we read with the most interest is that assigned to 

Cervantes, who appears under his family name 
*239 of Saavedra, without * disguise, though without 

any mark of respect. Considering that Lope 
took from him some of the best materials for this very 
piece, and that the sufferings and heroism of Cervantes 
at Algiers must necessarily have been present to his 
thoughts when he composed it, we can hardly do the 
popular poet any injustice by adding, that he ought 
either to have given Cervantes a more dignified part, 
and alluded to him with tenderness and consideration, 
or else have refrained from introducing him at all. 


12 See, passim, Haedo, ** Historia de 
Argel” (Madrid, 1612, folio). He reck- 
ons the number of Christian captives, 
chiefly Spaniards, in Algiers, at twenty- 
five thousand. 

There are frequent intimations in 
Spanish plays of the return of renega- 
does from Barbary to such portions of 
the coasts of their native land as were 
most familiar to them, for the purpose 
of carrying Christians into captivity ; 
and Lope de Vega, in his “‘ Peregrino 
en su Patria,” Libro I]., describes a 
particular spot on the shores of Valen- 
cia, where such violences had often oc- 
curred. No doubt they were common. 
See further the account, post, in Chapter 
XXYV., of the ‘‘ Redentor Cautivo” of 


Matos Fragoso, and, in a note, that of 
the ‘‘ Azote de su Patria,” by Moreto. 
Cervantes, speaking as the captive in 
Don Quixote, says that these renegadoes 
could run over from Tetuan in the night, 
and, after a successful foray, return so 
as to sleep at home. 

18 Lope, Obras Sueltas, Tom. ITI. p. 
377. Iam much disposed to think the 
play referred to as acted in the prisons 
of Algiers is Lope’s own moral play of 
the ‘‘ Marriage of the Soul to Divine 
Love,” in the second book of the ‘‘ Pere- 
grino en su Patria.” 

14 The passages in which Cervantes 
occurs are on ff. 245, 251, and espe- 
cially 262 and 277, Comedias, Toi. 
XXYV. 


bo 


Cuar. XVII.) RELIGIOUS DRAMAS. 81 


The three forms of Lope’s drama which have thus 
far been considered, and which are nearly akin to each 
other,” were, no doubt, the spontaneous productions 
of his own genius; modified, indeed, by what he found 
already existing, and by the taste and will of the audi- 
ences for which he wrote, but still essentially his own. 
Probably, if he had been left to himself and to the 
mere influences of the theatre, he would have preferred 
to write no other dramas than such as would naturally 
come under one of these divisions. But neither he nor 
his audiences were permitted to settle the whole of this 
question. The Church, always powerful in Spain, but 
never so powerful as during the latter part of the reign 
of Philip the Second, when Lope was just rising into 
notice, was offended with the dramas then so much in 
favor, and not without reason. Their free love-stories, 
their duels, and, indeed, their ideas generally upon 
domestic life and personal character, have, unques- 


tionably, anything but a Christian tone.” 


15 The fusion of the three classes may 
be seen at a glance in Lope’s fine play, 
‘** Kl Mejor Alcalde el Rey,” (Comedias, 
Tom: XXI., Madrid, 1635,) founded on 
a passage in the fourth part of the 
“* General Chronicle” (ed. 1604, f. 327). 
The hero and heroine belong to the 
condition of peasants ; the person who 
makes the mischief is their liege lord ; 
and, from the end of the second act, 
the king and one or two of the princi- 
* pal persons about the court play lead- 
ing parts. On the whole, it ranks 
technically with the comedias herdicas 
or historiales; and yet the best and 
most important scenes are those re- 
lating to common life, while others of 
no little consequence belong to the class 
of capa y espada. 

16 How the Spanish theatre, as it ex- 
isted in the time of Philip IV., ought 
to have been regarded, may be judged 
by the following remarks on such of its 
plays as continued to be represented at 
the end of the eighteenth century, read 
in 1796 to the Spanish Academy of 


A contro- 


History, by Jovellanos, —a personage 
who will be noticed when we reach the 
period during which he lived. 

** As for myself,” says that wise and 
faithful magistrate, ‘‘I am persuaded 
there can be found no proof so decisive 
of the degradation of our taste as the 
cool indifference with which we tolerate 
the representation of dramas, in which 
modesty, the gentler affections, good 
faith, decency, and all the virtues and 
principles belonging to a sound mo- 
rality, are openly trampled under foot. 
Do men believe that the innocence of 
childhood and the fervor of youth, that 
an idle and dainty nobility and an ig- 
norant populace, can witness without 
injury such examples of effrontery and 
grossness, of an insolent and absurd 
affectation of honor, of contempt of 
justice and the laws, and of public and 
private duty, represented on the stage 
in the most lively colors, and rendered 
attractive by the enchantment of scenic 
illusions and the graces of music and 
verse #. Let us, then, honestly confess 


282 RELIGIOUS DRAMAS. [Pertop II 


* 240 versy, therefore, * naturally arose concerning 

their lawfulness, and this controversy was con- 
tinued till 1598, when, by a royal decree, the represen- 
tation of secular plays in Madrid was entirely forbid- 
den, and the common theatres were closed for nearly 


two years.” 


Lope was compelled to accommodate himself to this 
new state of things, and seems to have done it easily 


and with his accustomed address. 


He had, as we have 


seen, early written relgious plays, like the old Myste- 
ries and Moralities; and he now undertook to infuse 
their spirit into the more attractive forms of his 
*241 *secular drama, and thus produce an entertain- 
ment which, while it might satisfy the popular 


the truth. Such a theatre is a public 
nuisance, and the government has no 
just alternative but to reform it or 
suppress it altogether.” Memorias de 
la Acad., Tom. V. p. 397. 

Elsewhere, in the same excellent dis- 
course, its author shows that he was 
by no means insensible to the poetical 
merits of the old theatre, whose moral 
influences he deprecated. 

‘*T shall always be the first,” he says, 
“to confess its inimitable beauties; the 
freshness of its inventions, the charm 
of its style, the flowing naturalness of 
its dialogue, the marvellous ingenuity 
of its plots, the ease with which every- 
thing is at last explained and adjusted ; 
the briliant interest, the humor, the 
wit, that mark every step as we ad- 
vance ;— but what matters all this, if 
this same drama, regarded in the light 
of truth and wisdom, is infected with 
vices and corruptions that can be toler- 
ated neither by a sound state of morals 
nor by a wise public policy?” Ibid., 
p. 413. 

17 C, Pellicer, Origen del Teatro, 
Madrid, 1804, 12mo, Tom. I. pp. 142- 
148. Plays were prohibited in Barce- 
lona in 1591 by the bishop; but the 
prohibition was not long respected, and 
in 1597 was renewed with increased 
earnestness. Bisbe y Vidal, Tratado de 
las Comedias, Barcelona, 1618, 12mo,. 
f. 94 ;—a curious book, attacking the 


Spanish theatre with more discretion 
than any other old treatise against it 
that I have read, but not with much 
effect. Its author would have all plays 
carefully examined and expurgated be- 
fore they were licensed, and then would 
permit them to be performed, not by 
professional actors, but by persons be- 
longing to the place where the repre- 
sentation was to occur, and known as 
respectable men and decent youths ; 
for, he adds, ‘‘ when this was done for 
hundreds of years, none of those strange 
vices were committed that are the con- 
sequence of our present modes.” (f. 
106.) Bisbe y Vidal is a pseudonyme 
for Juan Ferrer, the head of a large 
congregation of devout men at Bayce- 
lona, and a person who was so much 
scandalized at the state of the theatre 
in his time, that he published this at- - 
tack on it for the benefit of the broth- 
erhood whose spiritual leader he was. 
(Torres y Amat, Biblioteca, Art. Ferrer.) 
It is encumbered with theological learn- 
ing; but less so than other similar 
works of the time, and runs into ab- 
surdities worthy the bigotry of the age 
and the ignorance of the people ; as, 
for instance, when it attributes to the 
drama the introduction of heresy — el 
mayor mal que a una republica o reyno 
le puede venir—and the success of 
Luther’s doctrines in Germany. Chap. 
XI. Ferrer was a Jesuit. . 


Cuar. XVII.] THE NACIMIENTO DE CHRISTO. 283 


audiences of the capital, would avoid the rebukes of 
the Church. His success was as marked as it had 
been before; and the new varieties of form in which 
his genius now disported itself were scarcely less 
striking. 

His most obvious resource was the Scriptures, to 
which, as they had been used more than four centuries 
for dramatic purposes, on the greater religious festivals 
of the Spanish Church, the ecclesiastical powers could 
hardly, with a good grace, now make objection. Lope, 
therefore, resorted to them freely; sometimes con- 
structing dramas out of them which might be mistaken 
for the old Mysteries, were it not for their more 
poetical character, and their sometimes approaching so 
near to his own intriguing comedies, that, but for the 
religious parts, they might seem to belong to the 
merely secular and fashionable theatre that had just 


been interdicted. 


Of the first, or more religious sort, his “ Birth of 


Christ’ may be taken as a 


18 Comedias, Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 
1641, ff. 110, etc. Such plays were 
often acted at Christmas, and went 
under the name of Nacimientos ; —a 
relique of the old dramas mentioned in 
the ‘‘ Partidas,” and written in various 
forms after the time of Juan de la En- 
zina and Gil Vicente. They seem, from 
hints in the ‘‘ Viage” of Roxas, 1602, 
and elsewhere, to have been acted in 
private houses, in the churches, on the 
public stage, and in the streets, as they 
happened to be asked for. They were 
not exactly autos, but very like them, 
as may be seen from the ‘‘ Nacimiento 
de Christo” by Lope de Vega, (in a cu- 
rious volume entitled ‘‘ Navidad y Cor- 
pus Christi Festejados,” Madrid, 1664, 
4to, f. 346), —a drama quite different 
from this one, though bearing the same 
name ; and quite different from another 
Nacimiento de Christo, in the same vol- 
ume, (f. 93,) attributed to Lope, and 
called ‘* Auto. del Nacimiento de Chris- 


specimen. It is divided 


to Nuestro Sefior.”” There are besides, 
in this volume, Nacimientos attributed 
to Cubillo (f. 375) and Valdivielso (f. 
369). 

‘‘Nacimientos” continued to be rep- 
resented chiefly in pantomime and in 
private houses through the eighteenth 
century, and into the nineteenth. I 
have a poetical tract, entitled ‘‘ Dissefio 
metrico en que se manifiesta un Naci- 
miento con las figuras correspondientes 
segun el estilo que se pratica en las 
casas particulares de este corte, ec., por 
D. Antonio Manuel de Cardenas, Conde 
del Sacro Palacio,” Madrid, 1766, 18mo. 
It is in the ballad style, and describes 
minutely how they borrowed the Ma- 
donna and child from a convent, the ox 
from a neighboring village, etc. An- 
other similar description, but in quwin- 
tillas, is entitled ‘‘Liras a la Repre- 
sentacion del Drama, El Nacimiento, 
Pieza inedita de D. J. B. Colomés,” 
Valencia, 1807, 18mo. 


284 THE NACIMIENTO DE CHRISTO. [Perrop IT. 


into three acts, and begins in Paradise, immediately 
after the creation. The first scene introduces Satan, 
Pride, Beauty, and Envy;—Satan appearing with 
“dragon’s wings, a bushy wig, and above it a 
*942 serpent’s* head”; and Envy carrying a heart 
in her hand and wearing snakes in her hair. 
After some discussion about the creation, Adam and 
Eve approach in the characters of King and Queen. 
Innocence, who is the clown and wit of the piece, and 
Grace, who is dressed in white, come in at the same 
time, and, while Satan and his friends are hidden in a 
thicket, hold the following dialogue, which may be 
regarded as characteristic, not only of this particular 
drama, but of the whole class to which it belongs : — 


Adam. Here, Lady Queen, upon this couch of grass and flowers 
Sit down. 
Innocence. Well, that’s good, i’ faith ; 
He calls her Lady Queen. 
Grace. And don’t you see 
She is his wife ; flesh of his flesh indeed, 
And of his bone the bone ? 
Innocence. That ’s just as if 
You said, She, through his being, being hath. — 
What dainty compliments they pay each other ! 
Grace. Two persons are they, yet one flesh they are. 
Innocence. And may their union last a thousand years, 
And in sweet peace continue evermore ! 
Grace. The king his father and his mother leaves 
For his fair queen. 
Innocence. ' And leaves not overmuch, 
Since no man yet has been with parents born. 
But, in good faith, good master Adam, 
All fine as you go on, pranked out by Grace, 
I feel no little trouble at your course, 
Like that of other princes made of clay. 
But I admit it was a famous trick, 
In your most sovereign Lord, out of the mud 
A microcosm nice to make, and do it 
In one day. 
Grace. He that the greater worlds could build 
By his commanding power alone, to him 
It was not much these lesser works on earth 


Cuar. XVII] 285 


THE NACIMIENTO DE CHRISTO. 


To do. And see you not the two great lamps 
Which overhead he hung so fair ? 


Innocence. And how 


The earth he sowed with flowers, the heavens with stars ? 19 

*Immediately after the fall, and therefore, * 243 
according to the common Scriptural computa- 
tion, about four thousand years before she was born, 
the Madonna appears and personally drives Satan down 
to perdition, while, at the same time, an Angel expels 
Adam and Eve from Paradise. The Divine Prince and 
the Celestial Emperor, as the Saviour and the Supreme 
Divinity are respectively called, then come upon the 
vacant stage, and, in a conference full of theological 
subtilties, arrange the system of man’s redemption, 
which, at the Divine command, Gabriel, — 


Accompanied with armies all of stars 

To fill the air with glorious light,2° — 
descending to Galilee, announces as about to be accom- 
plished by the birth of the Messiah. This ends the 
first act. 

The second opens with the rejoicings of the Serpent, 
Sin, and Death, —confident that the World is now 
fairly given up to them. But their rejoicings are 
short. Clarionets are sounded, and Divine Grace ap- 
pears on the upper portion of the stage, and at once 
expels the sinful rout from their boasted possessions ; 


19 Adan. Aqui, Reyna, en esta alfobra 


Notable pena me dan. 
De yerua y flores te assienta. 


Brauo artificio tenia 


Inoc. Esso 4 la fe me contenta. Vuestro soberano dueno, 
Reyna y Senora la nombra. Quando un mundo aunque pequeno 
Gra. Pues no ves que es su muger, Hizo de barro en un dia. 
Carne de su carne y hueso. Gra. Quié los dos mundos mayores 
De sus huesos? Jno. Y ai por esso, Pudo hacer con su palabra, 
Porque es como ser su ser. Que mucho que rompa y abra 
Lindos requiebros se dizen. En la tierra estas labores. 
Gra. Dosen una carne son. No ves las lamparas bellas, 
Inoc. Dure mil aos la union, Que de los cielos colgé? 
Y en esta paz se eternizen. Inoc. Como de flores sembré 
Gra. a Reyna dexar4 La tierra, el cielo de estrellas. 
Rey asu padre y madre. : 
Inoc. Ninguno seh Se adite, Comedias de Lope do, Yess, Tom 


Poco en dexarlos hara ; 

Y 4 la fe, Sefior Adan, 

Que aunque de Gracia vizarro, 
Que los Principes del barro 


XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641, f. 111. 


20 Baxa esclareciendo el ayre 
Con exercitos de estrellas. 


286 THE NACIMIENTO DE CHRISTO. [Penton II. 


explaining afterwards to the World, who now comes 
on as one of the personages of the scene, that the 
Holy Family are immediately to bring salvation to 
men. 

The World replies with rapture : — 


O holy Grace, already I behold them ; 
And, though the freezing night forbids, will haste 
To border round my hoar frost all with flowers ; 
To force the tender buds to spring again 

* 244 * From out their shrunken branches ; and to loose 
The gentle streamlets from the hill-tops cold, 
That they may pour their liquid crystal down ; 
While the old founts, at my command, shall flow 
With milk, and ash-trees honey pure distil 
To satisfy our joyful appetites, 21 


The next scene is in Bethlehem, where Joseph and 
Mary appear begging for entrance at an inn, but, owing 
to the crowd, they are sent to a stable just outside the 
city, in whose contiguous fields shepherds and shep- 
herdesses are seen suffering from the frosty night, but 
jesting and singing rude songs about it. In the midst 
of their troubles and merriment, an angel appears in 
a cloud announcing the birth of the Saviour; and the 
second act is then concluded by the resolution of all to 
go and find the divine child and carry him their glad 
salutations. 

The last act is chiefly taken up with discussions 
of the same subjects by the same shepherds and shep- 
herdesses, and an account of the visit to the mother 
and child; some parts of which are not without poeti- 
cal merit. It ends with the appearance of the three 
Kings, preceded by dances of Gypsies and Negroes, 


21 Gracia santa, ya los veo. Bajen los arroyos mansos 
Voy 4 hazer que aquesta noche, Liquido cristal vertiendo. 
Aunque lo defienda el yelo, Hare que las fuentes manen 
Borden la escarcha las flores, Candida leche, y los fresnos 
Salgan los pimpollos tiernos Pura miel, diluvios dulces, 
De las encogidas ramas, Que aneguen nuestros deseos. 


¥ de los montes soberbios Comedias, Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641, f. 116 


Cuar. XVII.] THE NACIMIENTO DE CHRISTO. 287 


and with the worship and offerings brought by all to 
the new-born Saviour. 

Such dramas do not seem to have been favorites 
with Lope, and perhaps were not favorites with his 
audiences. At least, few of them appear among his 
printed works;—the one just noticed, and another, 
called “The Creation of the World and Man’s First 
Sin,” being the most prominent and curious;” and one 
on the atonement, entitled “The Pledge Redeemed,” 
bemg the most wild and gross. But to the proper 
stories of the Scriptures he somewhat oftener resorted, 
and with characteristic talent. Thus, we have 
full-length plays on * the history of Tobias and * 245 
the seven-times-wedded maid; on the fair 
Ksther and Ahasuerus;™ and on the somewhat un- 
suitable subject of the Ravishment of Dinah, the 
daughter of Jacob, as it is told in the Book of 
Genesis.” In all these, and in the rest of the class to 
which they belong, Spanish manners and ideas, rather 
than Jewish, give their coloring to the scene; and 
the story, though substantially taken from the Hebrew 
records, is thus rendered much more attractive, for 
the purposes of its representation at Madrid, than it 
would have been in its original simplicity; as, for in- 
stance, in the case of the “ Esther,’ where a comic un- 
derplot between a coquettish shepherdess and her lover 
is much relied upon for the popular effect of the 
whole.” 

2 It is in the twenty-fourth volume 


of the Comedias of Lope, Madrid, 1632, 
and is one of the very few of his re- 


Tom. XXIII., Madrid, 1638, ff. 118,. 
etc. To this may be added a better 
one, in Tom. XXII., Madrid, 1635, 


ligious plays that have been occasion- 
ally reprinted. 

3 ** Historia de Tobias,’ Comedias, 
Tom. XV., Madrid, 1621, ff. 231, etc. 

24 <¢Ta Hermosa Ester,” Ibid., ff. 
151, ete. 

% **E] Robo de Dina,” Comedias, 


**Los Trabajos de Jacob,” on the beau- 
tiful story of Joseph and his brethren. 
26 The underplot is slightly connect- 
ed with the main story of Esther, by a 
proclamation of King Ahasuerus, calling 
before him all the fair maidens of his 
empire, which, coming to the ears of 


288 


OTHER RELIGIOUS PLAYS. [PERtop II, 
Still, even these dramas were not able to satisfy 
audiences accustomed to the more national spirit of 
plays founded on fashionable life and intriguing adven- 
tures. A wider range, therefore, was taken. Striking 
religious events of all kinds— especially those found 
in the lives of holy men—were resorted to, and in- 
genious stories were constructed out of the 
*miracles and sufferings of saints, which were 
often as interesting as the intrigues of Span- 
ish gallants, or the achievements of the old Spanish 
heroes, and were sometimes hardly less free and wild. 
Saint Jerome, under the name of the “Cardinal of 
Bethlehem,” is brought upon the stage in one of them, 
first as a gay gallant, and afterwards as a saint scourged 
by angels, and triumphing, in open show, over Satan.” 
In another, San Diego of Alcala rises, from being the 
attendant of a poor hermit, to be a general with mili- 
tary command, and, after committing most soldier-like 
atrocities in the Fortunate Islands, returns and dies at 


* 246 


home in the odor of sanctity.* 


Silena, the shepherdess, she insists 
upon leaving her lover, Selvagio, and 
trying the fortune of her beauty at 
court. She fails, and on her return is 
rejected by Selvagio, but still main- 
tains her coquettish spirit to the last, 
and goes off saying or singing, as gayly 
as if it were part of an old ballad, — 
For the vulture that flies apart, 
I left my little bird’s nest ; 


But still I can soften his heart, 
And soothe down his pride to rest. 


The best parts of the play are the more 
religious ; like Esther’s prayers in the 
first and last acts, and the ballad sung 
at the triumphant festival when Ahasu- 
erus yields to her beauty; but the 
whole, like many other plays of the 
same sort, is intended, under the dis- 
guise of a sacred subject, to serve the 
purposes of the secular theatre. 
Perhaps one of the most amusing 
instances of incongruity in Lope, and 
their number is not few, is to be found 


And in yet others, his- 


in the first jornada of the ‘‘Trabajos 
de Jacob,” where Joseph, at the mo- 
ment he escapes from Potiphar’s wife, 
leaving his cloak in her possession, says 
in soliloquy : — 
So mayest thou, woman-like, upon my cloak 
Thy nad Sati wreak, as the bull wreaks his - 
wra 


Upon the cloak before him played; the man 
Meanwhile escaping safe. 


Y assi haras en essa capa, 

Con venganza de muger, 

Lo que el toro suele hacer 

Del hombre que se escapa. 
Yet, absurd as the passage is for its in- 
congruity, it may have been loudly ap- 
plauded by an audience that thought 
much more of bull-fights than of the 
just rules of the drama. 

27 <«H] Cardenal de Belen,” Comedi- 
as, Tom. XIII., Madrid, 1620. 

2 This play is not in the collection 
of Lope’s Comedias, but it is in Lord 
Holland’s list. My copy of it is an ola 
one, without date, printed for popular 


289 


Cuap, XVII. ] COMEDIAS DE SANTOS. 


torical subjects of a religious character are taken, like 
the story of the holy Bamba torn from the plough in 
the seventh century, and by miraculous command 
made king of Spain;” or like the life of the Moham- 
medan prince of Morocco, who, in 1593, was converted 
to Christianity and publicly baptized in presence of 
Philip the Second, with the heir of the throne for his 
godfather.” 

. All these, and many more like them, were repre- 
sented with the consent of the ecclesiastical powers, — 
sometimes even in convents and other religious houses, 
but oftener in public, and always under auspices no 
less obviously religious." The favorite mate- 
rials for such dramas, * however, were found, at 
last, almost exclusively in the lives of popular 
saints; and the number of plays filled with such his- 
tories and miracles was so great, soon after the year 
1600, that they came to be considered as a class by 
themselves, under the name of “ Comedias de Santos,” 


* 247 


or Saints’ Plays. 


use at Valladolid. And I have it, also, 
in the ‘‘Comedias Escogidas,” Tom. 
III., 1653, f. 222. 

29 “¢Comedias,” Tom. I., Valladolid, 
1604, ff. 91, etc. 

89 <*Bautismo del Principe de Mar- 
ruecos,” in which there are nearly sixty 
personages. Comedias, Tom. XI., Bar- 
celona, 1618, ff. 269, ete. C. Pellicer, 
Origen del Teatro, Tom. I. p. 86. Such 
a baptism—and one brought on the 
stage, too—sounds very*strange ; but 
strange things of the sort occurred oc- 
casionally from the intimate relations 
that often subsisted between the Chris- 
tian captives in Barbary and their mis- 
believing masters. For instance, in 
1646, the oldest son of the Bey of 
Tunis escaped to Palermo, for the ex- 
press purpose of becoming a Christian, 
and was there, with great ceremony, 
received into the bosom of the Church. 
See ‘‘Relacion de la Venida a Sicilia 
del Principe Mamet, hijo primogenito 
de Amat Dey de Tunis, a volverse 


VOL. Il. 19 


Lope wrote many of them. 


Besides 


Christiano, por el P. Fr. Donato Cian- 
tar, ec., traducida de Toscano en KEs- 
patiol, en Sevilla, por Juan Gomez de 
Blas, Aflo de 1646,” 4to, pp. 4;—a very 
curious tract, which justifies much in 
the play of Lope that seems improbable. 

81 C, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 153. 
When Francisco de Borja was canonized 
in 1625, there were great festivities for 
several days, and the Jesuits, of whose 
society he had been a proud ornament, 
caused a play on his life to be acted in 
a theatre belonging to them at Madrid ; 
Philip IV. and the Infantes being pres- 
ent. Who wrote the play I do not 
know, for the account of the festival, 
intending, perhaps, to pun, only says: 
**Por ser el Autor de la Compaiiia, la 
modestia le venera en silencio.” <A 
masque followed ; a poetical certamen, 
etc. ; — but all under religious auspices. 
Elogio del 8. P. Francisco de Borja, 
Duque de Gandia, ec., por el Doctor 
Juan Antonio de Peta, Natural de Ma- 
drid, 1625, 4to, f. 6, etc. 


290 THE SAN ISIDRO DE MADRID. ([Perrop II. 


those already mentioned, we have from his pen dra- 
matic compositions on the lives of Saint Francis, San 
Pedro de Nolasco, Saint Thomas Aquinas, Saint Julian, 
Saint Nicholas of Tolentino, Santa Teresa, three on 
San Isidro de Madrid, and not a few others. Many of 
them, like Saint Nicholas of Tolentino,” are very 
strange and extravagant; others are full of poetry; 
but perhaps none will give a more true idea of the 
entire class than the first one he wrote, on the sub- 
ject of the favored saint of his own city, San Isidro 
de Madrid.” 

It seems to have all the varieties of action and 
character that belong to the secular divisions of the 
Spanish drama. Scenes of stirring interest occur in 

it among warriors just returned to Madrid from 

*248 a *successful foray against the Moors; gay 
‘ scenes, with rustic dancing and frolics, at the 
marriage of Isidro and the birth of his son; and scenes 
of broad farce with the sacristan, who complains, that, 
owing to Isidro’s power with Heaven, he no longer 


82 **San Nicolas de Tolentino,” Co- 
medias, Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641, 
ff. 167, etc. Each act, as is not un- 
common in the old Spanish theatre, is 
a sort of separate play, with its sepa- 
rate list of personages prefixed. The 
first has twenty-one ; among which are 
God, the Madonna, History, Mercy, 
Justice, Satan, etc. It opens with a 
masquerading scene in a public square, 
of no little spirit; immediately after 
which we have a scene in heaven, con- 
taining the Divine judgment on the 
soul of one who had died in mortal sin ; 
then another spirited scene, in a public 
square, among loungers, with a sermon 
from a fervent, fanatical monk; and 
afterwards, successive scenes between 
Nicholas, who has been moved by this 
sermon to enter a convent, and his fam- 
ily, who consent to his purpose with. 
reluctance ; the whole ending with a 
dialogue of the rudest humor between 
Nicholas’s servant, who is the buffoon 


of the piece, and a servant-maid, to 
whom he was engaged to be married, 
but whom he now abandons, deter- 
mined to follow his master into a re- 
ligious seclusion, which, at the same 
time, he is making ridiculous by his 
jests and parodies. This is the first 
act. The other two acts are such as 
might be anticipated from it. 

83 This is not either of the plays or- 
dered by the city of Madrid to be acted 
in the open air in 1622, in honor of the 
canonization of San Isidro, and found 
in the twelfth volume of Lope’s Obras 
Sueltas ; though, on a comparison with 
these last, it will be seen that it was 
used in their composition. It, in fact, 
was printed five years earlier, in the 
seventh volume of Lope’s Comedias, 
Madrid, 1617, and continued long in 
favor, for it is reprinted in Parte 
XXVIII. of ‘*‘Comedias Escogidas de 
los Mejores Ingenios,” Madrid, 1667, 
4to. 


Cuar. XVII.] THE SAN ISIDRO DE MADRID. 291 


gets fees for burials, and that he believes Death is 
gone to live elsewhere. But through the whole runs 
the loving and devout character of the Saint himself, 
giving it a sort of poetical unity and power. The 
angels come down to plough for him, that he may no 
longer incur reproach by neglecting his labors in 
order to attend mass; and at the touch of his goad, 
a spring of pure water, still looked upon with rever- 
ence, rises in a burning waste to refresh his unjust 
master. Popular songs and poetry, meanwhile,™* with 
a parody of the old Moorish ballad of “Gentle River, 
Gentle River,” and allusions to the holy image of 
Almudena, aud the church of Saint Andrew, give life 
to the dialogue, as it goes on; — all familiar as house- 
hold words at Madrid, and striking chords which, when 
this drama was first represented, still vibrated in every 
heart. At the end, the body of the Saint, after his 
death, is exposed before the well-known altar of his 
favorite church; and there, according to the old tra- 
ditions, his former master and the queen come to wor- 
ship him, and, with pious sacrilege, endeavor to bear 
away from his person relics for their own protection; 
but are punished on the spot by a miracle, which thus 
serves at once as the final and crowning testimony to 
the divine merits of the Saint, and as an appropaas 
dénouement for the piece. 

No doubt, such a drama, extending over forty or 
fifty years of time, with its motley crowd of person- 
ages,— among whom are angels and demons, Envy, 


84 A spirited ballad or popular song Le dan pan, le dan cebolla, 


is sung and danced at the young Saint’s ‘vino phen lee 
wedding, beginning, — Comedias, Tom. XXVIII. , 1667, p. 54. 


Al villano se lo dan 85 Rio verde, rio verde, 

La cebolla con el pan. Mas negro vas que la tinta 
Mira que el tosco villano, De sangre de los Christianos, 
Quando quiera alborear, Que no de la Moreria. 

Salga con su par de bueyes p- 60. 


Y sucrado otro que tal. 


292 AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. [Perrop II. 


. Falsehood, and the River Manzanares, — would 
*249 now be accounted * grotesque and irreverent, 
rather than anything else. But in the time of 
Lope, the audiences not only brought a willing faith 
to such representations, but received gladly an exhi- 
bition of the miracles which connected the saint they 
worshipped and his beneficent virtues with their own 
times and their personal well-being.” If to this we 
add the restraints on the theatre, and Lope’s extraor- 
dinary facility, grace, and ingenuity, which never 
failed to consult and gratify the popular taste, we 
shall have all the elements necessary to explain the 
great number of religious dramas he composed, whether 
in the nature of Mysteries, Scripture stories, or lives of 
saints. ‘They belonged to his age and country as much 
as he himself did. . 
But Lope adventured with success in another form 
of the drama, not only more grotesque than that of 
the full-length religious plays, but intended yet more 
directly for popular edification, — the “Autos Sacra- 
mentales,” or Sacramental Acts, —a sort of religious 
plays performed in the streets during the season when 
the gorgeous ceremonies of the “ Corpus Christi” filled 
them with rejoicing crowds.” No form of the Spanish 
drama is older, and none had so long a reign, or main- 
tained during its continuance so strong a hold on the 


86 How far these plays were felt to 
be religious by the crowds who wit- 
nessed them may be seen in a thousand 
ways; among the rest, by the fact men- 
tioned by Madame d’Aulnoy, in 1679, 
that, when St. Anthony, on the stage, 
repeated his Conjiteor, the audience all 
fell on their knees, smote their breasts 
heavily, and cried out, Med culpd. 
Voyage d’Espagne. A la Haye, 1693, 
18mo, Tom. I. p. 56. 

37 Auto was originally a forensic term, 
from the Latin actus, and meant a de- 


cree or a judgment of a court. After- 
wards it was applied to these religious 
dramas, which were called Autos sacra- 
mentales, or Autos del Corpus Christi, 
and to the autos de fé of the Inquisi- 
tion ; in both cases, because they were 
considered solemn religious acts. Co- 
varrubias, Tesoro de la Lengua Castel- 
lana, ad verb. Auto. For the early 
history of the procession and for the 
management of the Mogigones, the Ta- 
rasca, etc., see Bibliotecario, 1841, fol., 
pp. 25-27. 


Cuar. XVII] AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. 293 


general favor. Its representations, as we have already 
seen, may be found among the earliest intimations of 
the national literature; and, as we shall learn here- 
after, they were with difficulty suppressed by the royal 
authority after the middle of the eighteenth century. 
In the age of Lope, and in that immediately following, 
they were at the height of their success, and had 
become an important * part of the religious cere- * 250 
monies arranged for the solemn sacramental festi- 
val to which they were devoted, not only in Madrid, but 
throughout Spain; all the theatres being closed for a 
month to give place to them and to do them honor.” 
Yet to our apprehensions, notwithstanding their re- 
ligious claims, they are almost wholly gross and irrev- 
erent. Indeed, the very circumstances under which 
they were represented would seem to prove that they 
were not regarded as really solemn. A sort of rude 
mumming, which certainly had nothing grave about it, 
preceded them, as they advanced through the thronged 
streets, where the windows and balconies of the better 
sort of houses were hung with silks and tapestries to 
honor the occasion. First in this extraordinary pro- 
cession came the figure of a misshapen marine monster, 


88 Great splendor was used, from the 
earliest times down to the present cen- 
tury, in the processions of the Corpus 
Christi throughout Spain; as may be 
judged from the accounts of them in 
Valencia, Seville, and Toledo, in the 
Semanario Pintoresco, 1839, p. 167; 
. 1840, p. 187; and 1841, p. 177. In 
those of Toledo, there is an intimation 
that Lope de Rueda was employed in 
the dramatic entertainments connected 
with them in 1561; and that Alonso 
Cisneros, Cristébal Navarro, and other 
known writers for the rude popular 
stage of that time, were his successors ; 
—all serving to introduce Lope and 
Calderon. 

But, at all periods, from first to last, 
the proper autos were rude, gross, and 


indecent. In fact, they were finally for- 
bidden as such by Charles III. in 1765. 
The wonder is that in a state of society 
claiming to be Christian they were sus- 
tained alike by the Church and the 
civil power; for in 1609, Mariana, in 
his treatise ‘‘ De Spectaculis,” had made 
it plain enough that they were unwor- 
thy all such countenance, In the Span- 
ish version of this remarkable treatise, 
made by the great historian himself, I 
find one more chapter (the twelfth) in 
which he says that the most gross of 
all the dances (the zarabanda) was per- 
formed in the Corpus Christi ceremo- 
nies of the autos with all its indecent 
gestures. See post, p. 452, note, for the 
Zarabanda, 


294 AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. [Pertop II. 


called the Tarasca, half serpent in form, borne by men 
concealed in its cumbrous bulk, and surmounted by 
another figure representing the Woman of Babylon, — 
the whole so managed as to fill with wonder and terror 
the poor country people that crowded round it, some 
of whose hats and caps were generally snatched away 
by the grinning beast, and regarded as the lawful 
plunder of his conductors.” 

Then followed a company of fair children, with gar- 
lands on their heads, smging hymns and litanies of the 
Church ; and sometimes companies of men and women 
with castanets, dancing the national dances. Two or 
more huge Moorish or negro giants, commonly called 
the Gigantones, made of pasteboard, came next, Jump- 
ing about grotesquely, to the great alarm of some of 

the less experienced part of the crowd, and to 
*251 the * great amusement of the rest. Then, with 

much pomp and fine music, appeared the priests, 
bearing the Host under a splendid canopy; and after 
them a long and devout procession, where was seen, in 
Madrid, the king, with a taper in his hand, like the 
meanest of his subjects, together with the great officers 
of state and foreign ambassadors, who all crowded in 
to swell the splendor of the scene.® Last of all came 
showy cars, filled with actors from the public theatres, 
who were to figure on the occasion, and add to its 


89 Pellicer, notes D. Quixote, Tom. 
IV., pp. 105, 106, and Covarrubias, wt 
supra, ad verb. Tarasca. The popu- 
lace of Toledo called the woman on the 
Tarasca, Anne Boleyn. Sem. Pint., 
RCE US hae Wy 

40 The most lively description I have 
seen of this procession is contained in 
the loa to Lope’s first fiesta and auto 
(Obras Sueltas, Tom. XVIII. pp. 1-7). 
Another description, to suit the festival 
as it was got up about 1655 —- 1665, will 
be found when we come to Calderon. 
It is given here as it occurred in the 


period of Lope’s success; and a fancy 
drawing of the procession, as it may 
have appeared at Madrid in 1623, is to 
be found in the Semanario Pintoresco, 
1846, p. 185. But Lope’s low is the 
best authority. A good authority for 
it, as it was got up in the provinces, 
may be found in Ovando’s poetical de- 
scription of it at Malaga in 1655, where, 
among other irreligious extravagances, 
Gypsies with tambourines danced in 
the procession. Ocios de Castalia por 
Juan de Ovando Santarem, 4to, Malaga, 
1668, f. 87, ec. 


Cuar. XVII] AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. 295 


attractions, if not to its solemnity ;— personages who 
constituted so important a part of the day’s fes- 
tivity, that the whole was often called, in popular 
phrase, The Festival of the Cars, —“La Fiesta de los 
Carros.” * 

This procession — not, indeed, magnificent in the 
towns and hamlets of the provinces, as it was in the 
capital, but always as imposing as the resources of the 
place where it occurred could make it — stopped from 
time to time under awnings in front of the house of 
some distinguished person,— perhaps that of the 
President of the Council of Castile at Madrid, per- 
haps that of the alcalde of a village,—and there 
waited reverently till certain religious offices could 
be performed by the ecclesiastics; the multitude, 
all the while, kneeling, as if in church. As soon 
as these duties were over, or at a later hour of the 
day, the actors from the cars appeared on a neigh- 
boring stage, in the open air, and performed, accord- 
ing to their limited service, the sacramental auto . 
prepared for the occasion, and always alluding to 
it directly. Of such autos, we know, on good au- 
thority, that Lope wrote about four hundred.” 

Of these above thirty * are still extant, in- * 252 
cluding several in manuscript, and a consid- 

erable number which were published only that the 
towns and villages of the interior might enjoy the 
same devout pleasures that were enjoyed by the 
court and capital; so universal was the fanaticism 
for this strange form of amusement, and so deeply 
was it seated in the popular character. Even Lope, 
on his death-bed, told Montalvan, that he regretted 





1 A good idea of the contents of the II. c. 11,) as he was returning from 
carro may be found in the description Toboso. 
of the one met by Don Quixote, (Parte #2 Montalvan, in his Fama Péstuma, 


296 AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. [Perrop II. 


he had not given his whole life to writing autos and 
other similar religious poetry.” 

At an earlier period, and perhaps as late as the 
time of Lope’s first appearance, this part of the 
festival consisted of a very simple exhibition, accom- 
panied with rustic songs, eclogues, and dancing, such 
as we find it in a large collection of manuscript 
autos, of which two that have been published are 
slight and rude in their structure and dialogue, and 
seem to date from a period as early as that of Lope ; “ 
but during his lifetime, and chiefly under his influ- 
ence, it became a formal and well-defined popular 

entertainment, divided into three parts, each 
*253 of which * was quite distinct in its character 


from the others, and all of them dramatic. 


48 Preface of Joseph Ortis de Villena, 
prefixed to the Autos in Tom. XVIII. 
of the Obras Sueltas. They were not 
printed till 1644, nine years after Lope’s 
death, and then they appeared at Zara- 
goza. One other auto, attributed to 
Lope, ‘‘ El Tirano Castigado,” occurs in 
a very rare volume, entitled ‘‘ Navidad y 
Corpus Christi Festejados,” collected by 
Isidro de Robles, and already referred to. 

The whole number of Lope’s aztos 
as given by Chorley is: printed and 
unquestionable, 18; others, more or 
less uncertain, 26, except three which 
are autographs. 

44 The manuscript collection men- 
tioned in the text was acquired by the 
National Library at Madrid in 1844. 
It fills 468 leaves in folio, and contains 
ninety-five dramatic pieces. All of 
them are anonymous except one, which 
is said to be by Maestro Ferruz, and is 
on the subject of Cain and Abel; and 
all but one seem to be on religious sub- 
jects. This last is called ‘‘ Hntremes 
de las Esteras,” and is the only one 
bearing that title. The rest are called 
OColoquios, Farsas, and Autos; nearly 
all being called Awtos, but some of them 
Farsas del Sacramento, which seems to 
have been regarded as synonymous. 
One only is dated. It is called ‘* Auto 
de la Resurreccion de Christo,” and is 
licensed to be acted March 28, 1568. 


Two have been published in the Museo 
Literario, 1844, by Don Eugenio de 
Tapia, of the Royal Library, Madrid, 
one of the well-known Spanish scholars 
and writers of ourown time. The first, 
entitled ‘‘ Auto de los Desposorios de 
Moisen,” is a very slight performance, 
and, except the Prologue or Argument, 
is in prose. The other, called ‘‘ Auto 
de la Residencia del Hombre,” is no 
better, but is all in verse. In a subse- 
quent number, Don Eugenio publishes 
a complete list of the titles, with the 
jiguras or personages that appear in 
each. It is much to be desired that 
all the contents of this MS. should be 
properly edited. Meanwhile, we know 
that swynetes were sometimes interposed 
between different parts of the perform- 
ances ; that allegorical personages were 
abundant; and that the Bobo or Fool 
constantly recurs. Some of them were 
probably earlier than the time of Lope 
de Vega ; perhaps as early as the time 
of Lope de Rueda, who, as I have al- 
ready said in note 38, ante, may have 
prepared autos of some kind for the city 
of Toledo, in 1561. But the language 
and versification of the two pieces that 
have been printed, and the general air of 
the fictions and allegories of the rest, so 
far as we can gather them from what has 
been published, indicate a period nearly 
or quite as late as that of Lope de Vega. 


Cuap. XVII] AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. 297 


First of all, in its more completed state, came the 
loa. This was always in the nature of a prologue; 
but sometimes, in form, it was a dialogue spoken by 
two or more actors. One of the best of Lope’s is 
of this kind. It is filled with the troubles of a 
peasant who has come to Madrid in order to see 
these very shows, and has lost his wife in the crowd; 
but, just as he has quite consoled himself and satisfied 
his conscience by determining to have her cried once 
or twice, and then to give her up as a lucky loss and 
take another, she comes in and describes with much 
spirit the wonders of the procession she had seen, 
precisely as her audience themselves had just seen it ; 
thus making, in the form of a prologue, a most amus- 
ing and appropriate introduction for the drama that 
was to follow. Another of Lope’s /oas is a discussion 
between a gay gallant and a peasant, who talks, in 
rustic fashion, on the subject of the doctrine of tran- 
substantiation.” Another is given in the character of 
a Morisco, and is a monologue, in the dialect of the 
speaker, on the advantages and disadvantages of his 
turning Christian in earnest, after having for some 
time made his living fraudulently by begging in the 
assumed character of a Christian pilgrim.” All of 
them are amusing, though burlesque; but some of 
them are anything rather than religious. 

After the loa came an entremes. All that remain to 
us of Lope’s entremeses are mere farces, like the inter- 
ludes used every day in the secular theatres. In one 


45 This is the first of the Zoas in the 
volume, and, on the whole, the best. 
My friend, Mr. J. R. Chorley, whose 
knowledge of Spanish literature, and 
especially of whatever relates to Lope, 
is so ample and accurate, doubts wheth- 
er the loas that have been published 
among Lope’s Works are all really his, 


and refers me, for proof, to the Preface 
of the Comedias, Tom. VIII., and to 
the Prologo of Pando y Mier to the 
Autos of Calderon. I have no doubt 
he is right. For an account of Loas, 
see post, Chap. XX VI. 

#6 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XVIII. p. 367. 

47 Tbid., p. 107. 


ox 


298 AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. [Periop II. 


instance he makes an entremes a satire upon lawyers, in 
which a member of the craft, as in the old French 
“ Maistre Pathelin,” is cheated and robbed by a seem- 
ingly simple peasant, who first renders him ex- 
*254 tremely *ridiculous, and then escapes by dis- 
guising himself as a blind ballad-singer, and 
dancing and singing in honor of the festival,—a 
conclusion which seems to be peculiarly irreverent for 
this particular occasion.® In another instance, he 
ridicules the poets of his time by bringing on the 
stage a lady who pretends she has just come from the 
Indies, with a fortune, in order to marry a poet, and 
succeeds in her purpose; but both find themselves 
deceived, for the lady has no income but such as is 
gained by a pair of castanets, and her husband turns 
out to be a ballad-maker. Both, however, have good 
sense enough to be content with their bargain, and 
agree to go through the world together singing and 
dancing ballads, of which, by way of jimale to the 
entremes, they at once give the crowd a specimen.* 
Yet another of Lope’s successful attempts in this way 
is an interlude containing within itself the representa- 
tion of a play on the story of Helen, which reminds 
us of the similar entertainment of Pyramus and Thisbe 
in the “ Midsummer Night’s Dream”; but it breaks 
off in the middle, — the actor who plays Paris running 
away in earnest with the actress who plays Helen, and 
the piece ending with a burlesque scene of confusions 
and reconciliations.” And finally, another is a parody 
of the procession itself, with its giants, cars, and all; 
treating the whole with the gayest ridicule.” 
8 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XVIII. p. 8. % Tbid., p. 168. ‘*El Robo de He- 
‘* Entremes del Letrado.” lena.” 


ena. 
*9 Thid., p. 114.  ‘‘Entremes del 51 Thid., p. 373. ** Muestra de los 
Poeta.” Carros.” 


299 


Cuap. XVII.] AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. 


Thus far, all has been avowedly comic in the dra- 
matic exhibitions of these religious festivals. But the 
autos or sacramental acts themselves, with which the 
whole concluded, and to which all that preceded was 
only introductory, claim to be more grave in their 
general tone, though in some cases, like the prologues 
and interludes, parts of them are too whimsical and 
extravagant to be anything but amusing. “The 
Bridge of the World” is one of this class.” It repre- 
sents the Prince of Darkness placing the giant Levia- 
than on the bridge of the world, to defend its 
passage against all *comers who do not con- * 256 
fess his supremacy. Adam and Eve, who, as 
we are told in the directions to the players, appear 
“dressed very gallantly after the French fashion,” are 
naturally the first that present themselves.” They 
subscribe to the hard condition, and pass over in sight 
of the audience. In the same manner, as the dialogue 
informs us, the patriarchs, with Moses, David, and Solo- 
‘mon, go over; but at last the Knight of the Cross, 
“the Celestial Amadis of Greece,’ as he is called, 
appears in person, overthrows the pretensions of the 
Prince of Darkness, and leads the Soul of Man in tri- 
umph across the fatal passage. The whole is obviously 
a parody of the old story of the Giant defending the 
Bridge of Mantible ;* and when to this are added paro- 
dies of the ballad of “Count Claros” applied to Adam,” 


52 It is the last in the collection, 
and, as to its poetry, one of the best of 
the twelve, if not the very best. 

53 The direction to the actors is, 
‘**Salen Adan y Eva vestidos de Fran- 
ceses muy galanes.” 

54 See Historia del Emperador Carlos 
Magno, Cap. 26, 30, ete. 

5° The giant says to Adam, referring 
to the temptation :— 


Yerros Adan por amores 

Dignos son de perdonar, ete. ; 
which is out of the beautiful and well- 
known old ballad of the ‘‘ Conde Claros,” 
beginning ‘‘ Pésame de vos, el Conde,” 
which has been already noticed, ante, 
Vol. I. p. 109. It must have been 
perfectly familiar to many persons in 
Lope’s audience, and how the allusion 
to it could have produced any other 
than an irreverent effect 1 know not. 


300 AUTOS SACRAMENTALES. [Perrop II. 


and of other old ballads applied to the Saviour,” the 
confusion of allegory and farce, of religion and folly, 
seems to be complete. 

Others of the aos are more uniformly grave. “The 
Harvest” is a spiritualized version of the parable in 
Saint Matthew on the Field that was sowed with Good 
Seed and with Tares,” and.is carried through with 
some degree of solemnity; but the unhappy tares, 
that are threatened with being cut down and cast 
into the fire, are nothing less than Judaism, Idolatry, 
Heresy, and all Sectarianism, who are hardly to be 
saved from their fate by their conversion through the 
mercy of the Lord of the Harvest and his fair spouse, 
the Church. However, notwithstanding a few such 
absurdities and awkwardnesses in the allegory, and 
some very misplaced compliments to the reigning 

royal family, this is one of the best of the class 
*2056 to which it belongs, and * one of the most 

solemn. Another of those open to less re- 
proach than usual is called “The Return from Egypt,”® 
which, with its shepherds and gypsies, is not without 
the grace of an eclogue, and, with its ballads and popu- 
lar songs, has some of the charms that belong to Lope’s 
secular dramas. These two, with “The Wolf turned 
Shepherd,” ’—which is an allegory on the subject of 
the Devil taking upon himself the character of the 
true shepherd.of the flock, — constitute as fair, or per- 
haps, rather, as favorable, specimens of the genuine 
Spanish awéo as can be found in the elder school. All 
of them rest on the grossest of the prevailing notions 


56 The address of the music, ‘‘Sidor- excellent translation in Dohrn’s Span- 
mis, Principe mio,” refers to the bal- ische Dramen, Berlin, 1841, 8vo, Tom. I. 
lads about those whose lady-loves had 58 <*La Vuelta de Egypto,” Obras, 
been carried captive among the Moors. Tom. XVIIL, p. 435. 

7 ** La Siega,” (Obras Sueltas, Tom. 59 <*F] Pastor Lobo y Cabafia Celes- 
XVIII. p. 328,) of which there is an tial,” Ibid., p. 381. 


Cuap. XVII] ENTREMESES. 301 


in religion; all of them appeal, in every way they can, 
whether light or serious, to the popular feelings and 
prejudices ; many of them are imbued with the spirit 
of the old national poetry; and these, taken together, 
are the foundation on which their success rested, — a 
success which, if we consider the religious object of the 
festival, was undoubtedly of extraordinary extent and 
extraordinary duration. 

But the entremeses or interludes that were used to | 
enliven the dramatic part of this rude, but gorgeous 
ceremonial, were by no means confined to it. They 
were, as has been intimated, acted daily in the public 
theatres, where, from the time when the full-length 
dramas were introduced, they had been inserted be- 
tween their different divisions or acts, to afford a 
lighter amusement to the audience. Lope wrote a 
great number of them; how many is not known. 
From their slight character, however, hardly more 
than thirty have been preserved, and some of those 
that bear his name are probably not his. But we 
have enough that are genuine to show that in this, 
as in the other departments of his drama, popular 
effect was chiefly sought, and that, as everywhere else, 
the flexibility of his genius is manifested in the variety 
of forms in which it exhibits its resources. Generally 
speaking, those we possess are written in prose, are 
very short, and have no plot; being merely farcical 
dialogues drawn from common or vulgar life. - 

The “ Melisendra,’ however, one of the first 
published, *is an exception to this remark. It * 257 
is composed almost entirely in verse, is divid- 
ed into acts, and has a doa or prologue ;—in short, it 
is a parody in the form of a regular play, founded on 
the story of Gayferos and Melisendra in the old bal- 





ENTREMESES. 


302 [Perron II. 


lads. The “ Padre Engafiado,” which Holcroft brought 
upon the English stage under the name of “ The Father 
Outwitted,’ is another exception, and is a lively farce 
of eight or ten pages, on the ridiculous troubles of a 
father who gives his own daughter in disguise to the 
very lover from whom he supposed he had carefully 
shut her up.” But most of them, like “The Indian,’ 
“The Cradle,” and “The Robbers Cheated,’ would 
occupy hardly more than fifteen minutes each in their 
representation, — slight dialogues of the broadest farce, 
continued as long as the time between the acts would 
conveniently permit, and then abruptly terminated to 
give place to the principal drama.” <A vigorous spirit, 
and a popular, rude humor are rarely wanting in them. 

But Lope, whenever he wrote for the theatre, seems 
to have remembered its old foundations, and to have 
shown a tendency to rest upon them as much as pos- 
sible of his own drama. This is apparent in the very 
entremeses we have just noticed. They are to be traced 
back to Lope de Rueda, whose short farces were of the 
same nature, and were used, after the introduction of 
dramas of three acts, in the same way.” It is apparent, 
too, as we have seen, in his moral and allegorical plays, 
in his sacramental acts, and in his dramas taken from 
the Scripture and the lives of the saints; all founded 
on the earlier Mysteries and Moralities. And now 
we find the same tendency again in yet one more 


60 Primera Parte de Entremeses, ‘‘ En- 
tremes Primero de Melisendra,’’ Come- 
dias, Tom. I., Valladolid, 1604, 4to, 
ff. 333, etc. It is founded on the fine 
old ballads of the Romancero of 1550 —- 
1555, ‘‘Asentado esta Gayferos,” etc. ; 
the same out of which the puppet- 
show man made his exhibition at the 
inn before Don Quixote, Parte II. ec. 
26. 

61 Comedias, Valladolid, 1604, Tom. 
a; Ds Oot 


62 All three of these pieces are in the 
same volume. 

63 <*Lope de Rueda,” says Lope de 
Vega, ‘‘was an example of these pre- 
cepts in Spain ; for from him has come 
down the custom of calling the old plays 
Entremeses.” (Obras Sueltas, Tom. IV. 
p. 407.) A single scene taken out 
and used in this way as an entremes 
was called a Paso or ‘“‘passage.” We 
have noted such by Lope de Rueda, 
etc, See ante, pp. 48, 53. 


Cuap, XVII.] DRAMATIC ECLOGUES. 3038 


class, that of his eclogues *and pastorals,—a * 258 
form of the drama which may be recognized at 

least as early as the time of Juan de la Enzina. Of 
these Lope wrote a considerable number, that are still 
extant, — twenty or more, — not a few of which bear 
distinct marks of their origin in that singular mixture 
of a bucolic and a religious tone that is seen in the 
first beginnings of a public theatre in Spain. 

Some of the eclogues of Lope, we know, were per- 
formed; as, for instance, “The Wood and no Love in 
it,’ — Selva sin Amor, — which was represented with 
costly pomp and much ingenious apparatus before the 
king and the royal family.“ Others, like seven or 
eight in his “ Pastores de Belen,” and one published 
under the name of “Tomé de Burguillos,’ —all of 
which claim to have been arranged for Christmas and 
different religious festivals, —so much resemble such 
as we know were really performed on these occasions, 
that we can hardly doubt that, ike those just men- 
tioned, they also were represented.” While yet others, 
like the first he ever published, called the “ Amorosa,” 
and his last, addressed to Philis, together with one on 
the death of his wife, and one on the death of his son, 
were probably intended only to be read.” But all 
may have been acted, if we are to judge from the 
habits of the age, when, as we know, eclogues never 
destined for the stage were represented, as much 
as if they had been expressly written for it.” At 


6 Obras, Tom. I. p. 225. The scen- 
ery and machines were by Cosmo 
Lotti, a Florentine architect ; and, as 
Stirling says, ‘‘they astonished the 
courtly audience by their beauty and 
ingenuity.” Artists of Spain, 1848, 
Vol. II. p. 566. 

65 Obras, Tom. XVI., passim, and 
XIX. p. 278. 

66 For these, see Obras, Tom. III. p. 


463 ; Tom. X. p. 193 ; Tom. IV. p. 4380; 
and Tom. X. p. 362. The last eclogue 
contains nearly all we know about his 
son, Lope Felix. 

67 See the scene in the Second Part 
of Don Quixote, where some gentlemen 
and ladies, for their own entertainment 
in the country, were about to represent 
the eclogues of Garcilasso and Camoens. 
In the same way, { think, the well- 


304 


DRAMATIC ECLOGUES. 


[Prrrop II. 


* 259 any rate, all Lope’s compositions of * this kind 

show how gladly and freely his genius over- 
flowed into the remotest of the many forms of the 
drama that were either popular or permitted in his 


time. 


known eclogue which Lope dedicated 
to Antonio Duke of Alva, (Obras, IV. 
p. 295,) that to Amaryllis, which was 
the longest he ever wrote, (Tom. X. p. 
147,) that for the Prince of Esquilache, 
(Tom. I. p. 352,) and most of those in 
the ‘‘ Arcadia,” (Tom. VI.,) were acted, 
and written in order to be acted. Why 
the poem to his friend Claudio, (Tom. 
IX. p. 355,) which is in fact an account 
of some passages in his own life, with 
nothing pastoral in its tone or form, is 
called ‘fan eclogue,” I do not know, 
unless he went to the Greek éxdoyv; 


nor will I undertake to assign to any 
particular class the ‘‘ Military Dialogue 
in Honor of the Marquis of Espinola,” 
(Tom. X. p. 337,) though I think it is 
dramatic in its structure, and was prob- 
ably represented, on some show occa- 
sion, before the Marquis himself. Such 
representations occurred in other coun- 
tries about the same period, but rarely, 
I think, of a bucolic nature. One, 
however, is mentioned by that prince 
of gossips, Tallemant des Réaux, in his 
notice of ‘*La Presidente Perrot,” as 
performed in Paris, in a private house. 


SGHAPT PRsexvV I Le: * 260 


LOPE DE VEGA, CONTINUED.—HIS CHARACTERISTICS AS A DRAMATIC WRITER. 
—HIS STORIES, CHARACTERS, AND DIALOGUE.—HIS DISREGARD OF RULES, 
OF HISTORICAL TRUTH, AND MORAL PROPRIETY.— HIS COMIC UNDERPLOT 
AND GRACIOSO.—HIS POETICAL STYLE AND MANNER.—HIS FITNESS TO 
WIN GENERAL FAVOR.—HIS SUCCESS.-—HIS FORTUNE, AND THE VAST 
AMOUNT OF HIS WORKS. 


Tue extraordinary variety in the character of Lope’s 
dramas is as remarkable as their number, and contrib- 
uted not a little to render him the monarch of the 
stage while he lived, and the great master of the 
national theatre ever since. But though this vast 
variety and inexhaustible fertility constitute, as it 
were, the two great corner-stones on which his success 
rested, still there were other circumstances attending 
it that should by no means be overlooked, when we are 
examining, not only the surprising results themselves, 
but the means by which they were obtained. 

The first of these is the principle which may be con- 
sidered as running through the whole of his full-length 
plays, ~— that of making all other interests subordinate 
to the interest of the story. Thus, the characters are 
a matter evidently of inferior moment with him; so 
that the idea of exhibiting a single passion giving a 
consistent direction to all the energies of a strong will, 
as in the case of Richard the Third, or, as in the case 
of Macbeth, distracting them all no less consistently, 
does not occur in the whole range of his dramas. 
Sometimes, it is true, though rarely, as in Sancho 


Ortiz, he develops a marked and generous spirit, with 
VOL, It. 20 


306 CHARACTER OF LOPE DE VEGA’S DRAMA. [Perron II. 


distinctive lineaments; but in no case is this 
*261 the * main object, and in no case is it done with 

the appearance of an artist-like skill or a delib- 
erate purpose. On the contrary a great majority of 
his characters are almost as much standing masks as 
Pantalone is on the Venetian stage, or Scapin on the 
French. The primer galan, or hero, all love, honor, and 
jealousy ; the dama, or heroine, no less loving and 
jealous, but yet more rash and heedless; and the 
brother, or if not the brother, then the darba, or old 
man and father, ready to cover the stage with blood, 
if the lover has even been seen in the house of the 
herome, — these recur continually, and serve, not only 
in the secular, but often in the religious pieces, as the 
fixed points round which the different actions, with 
their different incidents, are made to revolve. 

In the same way, the dialogue is used chiefly to 
bring out the plot, and hardly at all to bring out the 
characters. This is obvious in the long speeches, 
sometimes consisting of two or three hundred verses, 
which are as purely narrative as an Italian novella, and 
often much like one;.and it is seen, too, in the crowd 
of incidents that compose the action, which not infre- 
quently fails to find space sufficient to spread out all 
its ingenious involutions, and make them easily intelli- 
gible ; a difficulty of which Lope once gives his audi- 
ence fair warning, telling them at the outset of the 
piece, that they must not lose a syllable of the first 
explanation, or they will certainly fail to understand 
the curious plot that follows. 

Obeying the same principle, he sacrifices regularity 
and congruity in his stories, if he can but make them 
interesting. His longer plays, indeed, are regularly 
divided into three jornadas, or acts; but this, though 


Cuar. XVIII.] CHARACTER OF LOPE DE VEGA’S DRAMA. 307 


he claims it as a merit, is not an arrangement of his 
own invention, and is, moreover, merely an arbitrary 
mode of producing the pauses necessary to the con- 
venience of the actors and spectators; pauses which, 
in Lope’s theatre, have too often nothing to do with 
the structure and proportions of the piece it- 
self. As for the six plays which, * as he inti- * 262 
mates, were written according to the rules, 
Spanish criticism has sought for them in vain ;? nor 
do any of them, probably, exist now, if any ever 
existed, unless “La Melindrosa’’ — The Prude — may 
have been one of them. But he avows very honestly 
that he regards rules of all kinds only as obstacles to 
his success. “ When I am going to write a play,” he 
says, “I lock up all precepts, and cast Terence and 
Plautus out of my study, lest they should cry out 
against me, as truth is wont to do even from such 
dumb volumes; for I write according to the art in- 
vented by those who sought the applause of the mul- 
titude, whom it is but just to humor in their folly, 
since it is they who pay for it.” ® 

The extent to which, following this principle, Lope 
sacrificed dramatic probabilities and possibilities, geog- 


1 This division can be traced back to yielding to vulgar taste and popular 


a play of Francisco de Avendaiio, 1553. 
L. F. Moratin, Obras, 1830, Tom. I. 
Parte I. p. 182. 

2 “Except six,” says Lope, at the 
end of his ‘‘ Arte Nuevo,” ‘‘all my four 
hundred and eighty-three plays have 
offended gravely against the rules [el 
arte].” See Montiano y Luyando, 
‘*Discurso sobre las Tragedias Espafio- 
las,” (Madrid, 1750, 12mo, p. 47,) and 
Huerta, in the Preface to his ‘‘ Teatro 
Hespaiiol,” for the difficulty of finding 
even these six. In his Dorotea (Act 
III. sc. 4) Lope goes out of his way to 
ridicule the precepts of art, as he calls 
them ; but Figueroa (Placa Universal, 
1615, f. 322, b) rebukes him for thus 


ignorance. 

3 Arte Nuevo de Hacer Comedias,. 
Obras, Tom. IV. p. 406. And in the 
Dedication of ‘‘ Lo Cierto por lo Du- 
doso,” speaking of dramas, he says: 
‘Kn Espafia no tienen preceptos.” 
When, however, he published the 
twelfth volume of his Comedias, 1619, 
he seemed to fancy that he was writing 
more carefully, for he says, he wrote 
them not for the multitude, but for four- 
teen or fifteen people ‘‘que tuvo en su 
imaginacion.” Itwould be difficult, how- 
ever, to tell how he would apply this re- 
mark to ‘‘ El Marques de Mantua,” which 
is the seventh in the volume, or the 
** Fuente Ovejuna,” which is the last. 


308 CHARACTER OF LOPE DE VEGA’S DRAMA. |Penrop II. 


raphy, history, and a decent morality, can be properly 
understood only by reading a large number of his 
plays. But a few instances will partially illustrate it. 
In his “ First King of Castile,” the events fill thirty-six 
years in the middle of the eleventh century, and a 
Gypsy is introduced four hundred years before Gypsies 
were known in Hurope* The whole romantic story of 
the Seven Infantes of Lara is put into the play of 
“ Mudarra.”° In “Spotless Purity,’ Job, David, Jere- 
miah, Saint John the Baptist, and the University of 
Salamanca figure together;*® and in “The Birth of 
Christ ” we have, for the two extremes, the creation 

of the world and the Nativity.” So much for 
*263 history. Geography is treated *no_ better, 

when Constantinople is declared to be four 
thousand leagues from Madrid, and Spaniards are 
made to disembark from a ship in Hungary.’ And as 
to morals, it is not easy to tell how Lope reconciled 
his opinions to his practice. In the Preface to the 
twentieth volume of his Theatre, he declares, in refer- 
ence to his own “ Wise Vengeance,” that its title is 
absurd, because all revenge is unwise and unlawful; 
and yet it seems as if one half of his plays go to justify 
it. It is made a merit in San Isidro, that he stole 
his master’s grain to give it to the starving birds.” 


# <*El Primer Rey de Castilla,” Co- 
medias, Tom. XVII., Madrid, 1621, ff. 
114, ete. 

5 «<K] Bastardo Mudarra,” Comedias, 
Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641. 

6 «*La Limpieza no Manchada,” Co- 
medias, Tom. XIX., Madrid, 1623. 

7 **K) Nacimiento de Christo,” Co- 
medias, Tom. XXIV., wh supra. 

8 It is the learned Theodora, a person 
represented as capable of confounding 
the knowing professors brought to try 
her, who declares Constantinople to be 
four thousand leagues from Madrid. La 
Donzella Teodor, end of Act II. 

® This extraordinary disembarkation 


takes place in the ‘‘ Animal de Ungria” 
(Comedias, Tom. IX., Barcelona, 1618, 
ff. 137, 138). One is naturally re- 
minded. of Shakespeare’s ‘‘ Winter’s 
Tale”; but it is curious that the Duke 
de Luynes, a favorite minister of state 
to.Louis XIII., made precisely the same 
mistake, at about the same time, to 
Lord. Herbert of Cherbury, then (1619 - 
1621) ambassador in France. But Lope 
certainly knew better, and I doubt not 
Shakespeare did, however ignorant the: 
French statesman may have been. Her- 
bert’s Life, by himself, London, 1809,, 
8vo, p. 217. 

17 See ‘‘San Isidro Labrador,” in Co-« 


Cuar. XVIII.] CHARACTER OF LOPE DE VEGA’S DRAMA. 309 


The prayers of Nicolas de Tolentino are accounted 
sufficient for the salvation of a kinsman who, after a 
dissolute life, had died in an act of mortal sin; 
and the cruel and atrocious conquest of Arauco is 
claimed as an honor to a noble family and a grace to 
the national escutcheon.” 

But all these violations of the truth of fact and of 
the commonest rules of Christian morals, of which 
nobody was more aware than their perpetrator, were 
overlooked by Lope himself, and by his audiences, in 
the general interest of the plot. A dramatized novel ~ 
was the form he chose to give to his plays, and he 
succeeded in settling it as the main principle of the 
Spanish stage. “Tales,” he declares, “ have the same 
rules with dramas, the purpose of whose authors 
is to content and please the public, *though *264 
the rules of art may be strangled by it.” * And 
elsewhere, when defending his opinions, he says: 
“Keep the explanation of the story doubtful till the 
last scene ; for, as soon as the public know how it will 
end, they turn their faces to the door, and their backs 
to the stage.” * This had never been said before ; and 
though some traces of intriguing plots are to be found 
from the time of Torres de Naharro, yet nobody ever 
thought of relying upon them, in this way, for success, 
medias Escogidas, Tom. XXVIII., Ma- 
drid, 1667, f. 66. 

uu “San Nicolas de Tolentino,” Co- 
rag Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641, 


12 «* Arauco Domado,” Comedias, 
Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629. After read- 


are heard, not only with applause, but 
with admiration ! 2” TD. Quixote, Parte 
LT).c.. 26, 

13 <‘Tienen las novelas los mismos 
preceptos que las comedias, cuyo fin es 
haber dado su autor contento y gusto 
al pueblo, aunque se ahorque el arte.” 


ing such absurdities, we wonder less 
that Cervantes, even though he com- 
mitted not a few like them himself, 
should make the puppet-showman ex- 
claim, ‘‘ Are not a thousand plays rep- 
resented nowadays, full of a thousand 
improprieties and absurdities, which 
yet run their course successfully, and 


Obras Sueltas, ‘Tom. VIII. p. 70. 

14 Arte Nuevo, Obras, Tom. IV. p. 
412. From an autograph MS. of Lope, 
still extant, it appears that he some- 
times wrote out his plays first in the 
form of pequettas novelas. Semanario 
Pintoresco, 1839, p. 19. 


310 THE GRACIOSO. [Prrrop II. 


till Lope had set the example, which his school have 
so faithfully followed. 

Another element which he established in the Span- 
ish Drama was the comic underplot. Nearly all his 
plays, “ The Star of Seville’ being the only brilliant 
exception, have it;—-sometimes in a. pastoral form, 
but generally as a simple admixture of farce. The ~ 
characters contained in this portion of each of his 
dramas are as much standing masks as those in the 
graver portion, and were perfectly well known under 
the name of the graciosos and graciosas, or drolls, to 
which was afterwards added the vegete, or a little, old, 
testy esquire, who is always boasting of his descent, 
and is often employed in teasing the gracioso. In most 
cases they constitute a parody on the dialogue and 
adventures of the hero and heroine, as Sancho is partly 
a parody of Don Quixote, and in most cases they are 
the servants of the respective parties; the men 
being good-humored cowards and gluttons, the women 
mischievous and coquettish, and both full of wit, mal- 
ice, and an affected simplicity. Shght traces of such 
characters are to be found on the Spanish stage as far 
back as the servants in the “Serafina” of Torres 
Naharro; and in the middle of that century, the dodo, 
or fool, figures freely in the farces of Lope de Rueda, 
as the simplé had done before in those of Enzina. But 
the variously witty gracioso, the full-blown parody of 
the heroic characters of the play, the dramatic picaro, 

is the work of Lope de Vega. He first intro- 
*265 duced *it into the “ Francesilla,’ where the 
oldest of the tribe, under the name of Tristan, 
was represented by Rios, a famous actor of his time, 


143 Figueroa (Pasagero, 1617, f. 111) calls the vegete ‘‘natural enemigo del 
acayo.” 


Cuar, XVIII.] THE GRACIOSO. Se 


and produced a great effect ;—an event which, 
Lope tells us, in the Dedication of the drama itself, in 
1620, to his friend Montalvan, occurred before that 
friend was born, and therefore before the year 1602. 

From this time the gracioso is found in nearly all of 
his plays, and in nearly every other play produced on 
the Spanish stage, from which it passed, first to the 
French, and then to all the other theatres of modern 
times. Excellent specimens of it may be noted in the 
sacristan of the “ Captives of Algiers,” in the servants 
of the “Saint John’s Eve,’ and in the servants of the 
“Uoly Beauty”; in all which, as well as in many 
more, the gracioso is skilfully turned to account, by 
being made partly to ridicule the heroic extravagances 
and rhodomontade of the leading personages, and 
partly to shield the author himself from rebuke by 
good-humoredly confessing for him that he was quite 
aware he deserved it. Of such we may say, as Don 
Quixote did, when speaking of the whole class to 
the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, that they are the 
shrewdest fellows in their respective plays. But of 
others, whose, ill-advised wit is mopportunely thrust, 


15 See the Dedication of the ‘‘ France- 
silla” to Juan Perez de Montalvan, in 
Comedias, Tom. XIII., Madrid, 1620, 
where we have the following words : 
** And note in passing that this is the 
first play in which was introduced the 
character of the jester, which has been 
so often repeated since. Rios, unique 
in all parts, played it, and is worthy 
of this record. I pray you to read it 
as a new thing; for when I wrote it 
you were not born.” The gracioso was 
generally distinguished by his name on 
the Spanish stage, as he was afterwards 
on the French stage. Thus, Calderon 
often calls his gracioso Clarin, or Trum- 
pet ; as Moliére called his Sganarelle. 
The simplé, who, as I have said, can be 
traced back to Enzina, and who was, 
no doubt, the same with the bobo, is 
mentioned as very successful, in 1596, 


by Lopez Pinciano, who, in his “ Filo- 
sofia Antigua Poética,” (1596, p. 402,) 
says, ‘‘They are characters that com- 
monly amuse more than any others that 
appear in the plays.” The gracioso of 
Lope was, like the rest of his theatre, 
founded on what existed before his 
time ; only the character itself was 
further developed, and received a new 
name. JD. Quixote, Clemencin, Parte 
II. cap. 3, note. 

But he was eminently in the national 
taste, and rose, at once, in Lope’s hands, 
to be an important personage. When 
the Persiles and Sigismundo was writ- 
ten, this personage was considered alto- 
gether indispensable, as we can see from 
the humorous troubles occasioned by the 
absolute necessity of introducing one 
into a play in which such a figure could 
find no proper place. Lib. III. c. 2. 


51g LOPE DE VEGA’S VERSIFICATION. 


[Periop II. 


with their foolscaps and baubles, into the gravest and 
most tragic scenes of plays like “ Marriage in Death,” 
we can only avow, that, though they were demanded 
by the taste of the age, nothing in any age can suffice 
for their justification. 

“An. important circumstance which should 
not be overlooked, when considering the means 
of Lope’s great success, is his poetical style, tlfe metres 
he adopted, and especially the use he made of. the 
elder poetry of his country. In all these respects, he 
is to be praised ; always excepting the occasions when, 
to obtain universal applause, he permitted himself the 
use of that obscure and affected style which the courtly 
part of his audience demanded, and which he himself 
elsewhere condemned and ridiculed.” 

No doubt, indeed, much of his power over the mass 
of the people of his time is to be sought in the charm 
that belonged to his versification; not infrequently 
careless, but almost always fresh, flowing, and effec- 
tive. Its variety, too, was remarkable. No metre of 
which the language was susceptible escaped him. The 
Italian octave stanzas are frequent; the ¢erza rima, 
though more sparingly used, occurs often; and hardly 
a play is without one or more sonnets. All this was 
to please the more fashionable and cultivated among 
his audience, who had long been enamored of what- 
ever was Italian; and though some of it was unhappy 


* 266 


16 The specimens of his bad taste in 
this particular occur but too frequently ; 
e. g. in ‘*E] Cuerdo en su Casa” (Co- 
medias, Tom. VI., Madrid, 1615, ff. 
-105, etc.); in the ‘‘Nifia de Plata” 
(Comedias, Tom. IX., Barcelona, 1618, 
ff. 125, etc.) ; in the ‘* Cautivos de Ar- 
gel” (Comedias, Tom. XXV., Zaragoza, 
1647, p. 241); and in other places. 
But in opposition to all this, see his 
deliberate condemnation of such eu- 


phuistical follies in his Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. IV. pp. 459-482; and the jests 
at their expense in his ‘‘ Amistad y Ob- 
ligacion,” and his ‘*‘ Melindres de Beli- 
sa’ (Comedias, Tom. IX., Barcelona, 
1618). 

As a general remark, Lope’s language 
is natural, pure, and idiomatic. Vargas 
y Ponce (Declamacion, p. 23) is too 
strong, when he says that it is always 
S80. 


Cap. XVIII.) HIS USE OF BALLADS. 31S 


enough, like sonnets with echoes,” it was all fluent 
and all successful. 

Still, as far as his verse was concerned, — besides 
the sivas, or masses of irregular lines, the qguintillas, or 
five-line stanzas, and the diras, or six-line,— he relied, 
above everything else, upon the old national ballad- 
measure ;— both the proper romance, with aso- 
nantes, * and the redondilla, with rhymes between * 267 
the first and fourth lines and between the sec- 
ond and third. In this he was unquestionably right. 
The earliest attempts at dramatic representation in 
Spain had been somewhat lyrical in their tone, and 
the more artificial forms of verse, therefore, especially 
those with short lines interposed at regular intervals, 
had been used by Juan de la Enzina, by Torres Na- 
harro, and by others; though, latterly, im these, as in 
many respects, much confusion had been introduced 
into Spanish dramatic poetry. But Lope, making his 
drama more narrative than it had been before, settled 
it at once and finally on the true national narrative 
measure. He went further. He introduced into it 
much old ballad-poetry, and many separate ballads of 
his own composition. Thus, in “The Sun Delayed,’ 
the Master of Santiago, who has lost his way, stops 
and sings a ballad; and in his “Poverty no Dis 
grace, he has inserted a beautiful one, beginning, — 


17 Sonnets seem to have been a sort 
of choice morsels thrown in to please 
the over-refined portion of the audience. 
In general, only one or two occur in a 
play ; but in the “‘ Discreta Venganza” 
(Comedias, Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629) 
there are five. In the ‘‘ Palacios de 
Galiana’’ (Comedias, Tom. XXIII., Ma- 
drid, 1638, f. 256) there is a foolish 
sonnet with echoes, and another in the 
‘** Historia de Tobias” (Comedias, Tom. 
XV., Madrid, 1621, f. 244). The son- 
net in ridicule of sonnets, in the ‘‘ Nina 


de Plata,” (Comedias, Tom. IX., Bar- 
celona, 1618, f. 124,) is witty, and has 
been imitated in French and in English.” 
Figueroa, (Pasagero, 1617, f. 111), in 
ridicule of the practice, says you must 
not put more than seven sonnets into a 
play. But sonnets, as ornaments, are 
known in the drama of other countries. 
Shakespeare has them, e. g. in the 
heartbroken letter of Helen to her 
mother-in-law, ‘‘All’s Well that Ends 
Well,” Act III. se. 4. 

18 ** F) Sol Parado,” Comedias, Tom. 


314 


LOPE DE VEGA’S MATERIALS. [Pentop II. 


O noble Spanish cavalier, 
You hasten to the fight ; 

The trumpet rings upon your ear, 
And victory claims her right.19 


Probably, however, he produced a still greater effect 
when he brought in passages, not of his own, but 
of old and well-known ballads, or allusions to them. 
Of these his plays are full. For instance, his “Sun 
Delayed,” and his “ Envy of Nobility,” are all redolent 
of the Morisco ballads that were so much admired in 
his time ; the first taking those that relate to the loves 
of Gazul and Zayda,” and the last those from the 

“ Civil Wars of Granada,” about the wild feuds 
*268 of the Zegris and the * Abencerrages™ Hardly 

less marked is the use he makes of the old bal- 
lads on Roderic, in his “Last Goth” ;* of those con- 
cerning the Infantes of Lara, in his several plays 
relating to their tragical story ;* and of those about 
Bernardo del Carpio, in “ Marriage and Death.” Oc- 
casionally, the effect of their introduction must have 
been very great. Thus, when, in his drama of “Santa 
Fé,” crowded with the achievements of Hernando del 


XVII., Madrid, 1621, pp. 218, 219. 
It reminds one of the much more beau- 
tiful serrana of the Marquis of Santil- 
lana, beginning ‘‘Moza tan formosa,” 
ante, Vol. I. p. 336 and note. But it 
is too free. 

19 «* Pobreza no es Vileza,’’ Comedias, 
Tom. XX., Madrid, 1629, f. 61. 

20 He has even ventured to take the 
beautiful and familiar ballad, ‘‘ Sale la 
Estrella de Venus," — which is in the 
Romancero General, the ‘‘Guerras de 
Granada,” and many other places, — 
and work it up into a dialogue. ‘‘ El 
Sol Parado,” Comedias, Tom. XVII., 
Madrid, 1621, ff. 223, 224. 

71 In the same way he seizes upon 
the old ballad, ‘‘Reduan bien se te 
acuerda,” and uses it in the ‘‘ Embidia 
de la Nobleza,” Comedias, Tom. XXIII., 
Madrid, 1638, f. 192. 


22 For example, the ballad in the Ro- 
mancero of 1555, beginning ‘‘ Despues 
que el Rey Rodrigo,” at the end of Jor- 
nada II., in ‘‘ El Ultimo Godo,” Come- 
dias, Tom. XXV., Zaragoza, 1647. 

23 Compare ‘‘ El Bastardo Mudarra” 
(Comedias, Tom. XXIV., Zaragoza, 
1641, ff. 75, 76) with the ballads ‘‘Ruy . 
Velasquez de Lara,” and ‘‘ Llegados son 
los Infantes” ; and, in the same play, 
the dialogue between Mudarra and his 
mother, (f. 83,) with the ballad, ‘‘Sen- 
tados 4 un ajedrez.” 

24 «¢H] Casamiento en la Muerte,” 
(Comedias, Tom. I., Valladolid, 1604, 
ff. 198, etc.,) in which the following 
well-known old ballads are freely used, 
viz. : “*O Belerma! O Belerma!” ‘‘No 
tiene heredero alguno”; ‘‘ Al pie de un 
tumulo negro”; ‘‘ Bafiando esta las pri- 
siones’’; and others. 


Cuar. XVIII.) HIS POPULARITY. Sha 


Pulgar, Garcilasso de la Vega, and whatever was most 
glorious and imposing in the siege of Granada, one of 
his personages breaks out with a variation of the famil- 
iar and grand old ballad, — 


Now Santa Fé is circled round 
With canvas walls so fair, 

And tents that cover all the ground 
With silks and velvets rare,25 — 


it must have stirred his audience as with the sound of 
a trumpet. 

Indeed, in all respects, Lope well understood how 
to win the general favor, and how to build up and 
strengthen his fortunate position as the lead- 
ing dramatic poet of *his time. The ancient *269 
foundations of the theatre, as far as they existed 
when he appeared, were little disturbed by him. He 
carried on the drama, he says, as he found it ; not ven- 
turing to observe the rules of art, because, if he had 
done so, the public never would have listened to 
him.” The elements that were floating about, crude 
and unsettled, he used freely ; but only so far as they 
suited his general purpose. The division into three 
acts, known so little, that he attributed it to Virues, 
though it was made much earlier; the ballad-measure, 


2° It is in the last chapter of the and the capitulation of Granada. The 


**Guerras Civiles de Granada”; but 
Lope has given it, with a slight change 
in the phraseology, as follows : — 
Cercada esta Sancta Fé 
Con mucho lienco encerado ; 


Y al rededor muchas tiendas 
De terciopelo y damasco. 


It occurs in many collections of ballads, 
and is founded on the fact, that a sort 
of village of rich tents was established 
near Granada, which, after an acciden- 
tal conflagration, was turned into a 
town, that still exists, within whose 
walls were signed both the commission 


of Columbus to seek the New World, 


imitation of this ballad by Lope is in 
his ‘‘Cerco de Santa Fé,” Comedias, 
Tom. I., Valladolid, 1604, f. 69. For 
an account of Santa Fé, which was vis- 
ited by Navagiero in 1526, see his Vi- 
aggio, 1563, f. 18. It is now much 
dilapidated. It took its name, Have- 
mann says, from the belief that it was 
the only city in Spain where no Moslem 
prayer had ever been offered. 

25 He says this apparently as a kind 
of apology to foreigners, in the Preface 
to the ‘‘ Peregrino en su Patria,” 1603, 
where he gives a list of his plays to 
that date. 


Bt, ye HIS POPULARITY. [Perrop II. 


which had been timidly used by Tarrega and two 
or three others, but relied upon by nobody; the in- 
triguing story and the amusing underplot, of which the 
slight traces that existed in Torres: Naharro had been 
long forgotten, — all these he seized with the instinct 
of genius, and formed from them, and from the abun- 
dant and rich inventions of his own overflowing fancy, 
a drama which, as a whole, was unlike anything that 
had preceded it, and yet was so truly national, and 
rested so faithfully on tradition, that it was never 
afterwards disturbed, till the whole literature, of which 
it was so brilliant a part, was swept away with it. 
Lope de Vega’s immediate success, as we have seen, 
was In proportion to his great powers and favorable 
opportunities. For a long time, nobody else was will- 
ingly heard on the stage; and during the whole of 
the forty or fifty years that he wrote for it, he stood 
quite unapproached in general popularity. His un- 
numbered plays and farces, in all the forms that were 
demanded by the fashions of the age, or permitted by 
religious authority, filled the theatres both of the cap- 
ital and the provinces; and so extraordinary was the 
impulse he gave to dramatic representations, that, 
though there were only two companies of strolling 
players at Madrid when he began, there were, about 
the period of his death, no less than forty, compre- 
hending nearly a thousand persons.” 
*270  *Abroad, too, his fame was hardly less re- 
markable. In Rome, Naples, and Mulan, his 
dramas were performed in their original language ; 
in France and Italy, his name was announced in order | 
to fill the theatres ED no play of his was to be per- 


"27 See the curious facts collected on Quixote, ed. 1798, Parte II., Tom. L 
‘this subject in Pellicer’s note to Don pp. 109-111. 


Cuar. XVIII] HIS POPULARITY. 317 


formed ;* and once even, and probably oftener, one 
of his dramas was represented in the seraglio at 
Constantinople.” But perhaps neither all this popu- 
larity, nor yet the crowds that followed him in the 
streets and gathered in the balconies to watch him as 
he passed along,” nor the name of Lope, that was 
given to whatever was esteemed singularly good in 
its kind,” is so striking a proof of his dramatic suc- 
cess as the fact, so often complained of by himself 
and his friends, that multitudes of his plays were 
fraudulently noted down as they were acted, and 
then printed for profit throughout Spain; and that 
multitudes of other plays appeared under his name, 
and were represented all over the provinces, that he 


had never even heard of till they were published or 


performed.” 


2% This is stated by the well-known 
Italian poet, Marini, in his Eulogy on 
Lope, Obras Sueltas, Tom. XXI. p. 19. 
His plays were often printed in Italy 
while he was living and after his death. 
I have a copy of a neat edition of his 
‘*Vellocino de Oro,” published at Milan 
in 1649. 

29 Obras Sueltas, Tom. VIII. pp. 
94-96, and Pellicer’s note to Don 
Quixote, Parte I., Tom. III. p. 93. 
One of his plays was translated into 
German in 1652, by Grefflinger, a poor 
author of that period ; but, in general, 
Spanish literature was little regarded 
in Germany in the seventeenth century. 
The Thirty Years’ War made it dis- 
tasteful. 

89 This is said in a discourse preached 
over his mortal remains in St. Sebas- 
tian’s, at his funeral. Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. XIX. p. 329. 

31 ** Frey Lope Felix de Vega, whose 
name has become universally a proverb 
for whatever is good,” says Quevedo, in 
his Aprobacion to ‘‘Tomé de Burguillos.” 
(Obras Sueltas de Lope, Tom. XIX. p. 
xix.) ‘*It became a common proverb 
to praise a good thing by calling it a 
Lope; so that jewels, diamonds, pic- 
tures, etc., were raised into esteem by 
calling them his,” says Montalvan. 


(Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. p. 53.) Cer- 
vantes intimates the same thing in his 
entremes, ‘‘ La Guarda Cuidadosa.” 

82 His complaints on the subject be- 
gin as early as 1603, before he had pub- 
lished any of his plays himself, (Obras 
Sueltas, Tom. V. p. xvii,) and are re- 
newed in the ‘‘ Egloga a Claudio,” 
(Ibid., Tom. IX. p. 369,) printed after 
his death ; besides which they occur in 
the Prefaces to his Comedias, (Tom. 
IX., XI., XIII., XV., XXI., and else- 
where,) as a matter that seems to have 
been always troubling him. I have 
one of these spurious publications. It 
is entitled ‘*‘ Las Comedias del Famoso 
Poeta, Lope de Vega Carpio, recopiladas 
por Bernardo Grassa, ec., Aho 1626, 
Caragoca, 4to, ff. 289. Eleven Loas 
open this curious volume, nearly all of 
them ending with an earnest request 
for silence; and it contains twelve 
plays, being, in fact, an imperfect and 
irregular reprint of the first volume of 
the ‘‘ Comedias.”’ 

An amusing story is told by Figu- 
eroa (Placa Universal, 1615, f. 237, a) 
of the way in which plays were some- 
times stolen. He says that there was 
a gentleman by the name of Luis Rami- 
rez de Arellano, (the same person, I 
suppose, who was one of the secre- 


318 HIS INCOME AND POVERTY. (Perrop IL. 


A large income naturally followed such popularity, 
for his plays were liberally paid for by the ac- 

*271 tors;* and he *had patrons of a munificence 
unknown in our days, and always undesirable.™ 

But he was thriftless and wasteful, exceedingly char- 
itable, and, in hospitality to his friends, prodigal. He 
was, therefore, almost always embarrassed. At the 
end of his “ Jerusalem,” printed as early as 1609, he 
complains of the pressure of his domestic affairs;® and 
in his old age he addressed some verses, in the nature 
of a petition, to the still more thriftless Philip the 
Fourth, asking the means of living for himself and 
his daughter.” After his death, his poverty was fully 
admitted by his executor; and yet, considering the 
relative value of money, no poet, perhaps, ever re- 


ceived so large a compensation for his works. 


taries to the Count de Lemos,) who 
could carry off a whole play after hear- 
ing it three times, and actually did it 
in the cases of the ‘‘ Dama Boba” and 
the ‘‘ Principe Perfeto,” well-known 
dramas of Lope de Vega. ‘This, of 
course, Was very annoying. On one 
occasion, therefore, when the ‘‘ Galan 
de la Membrilla’”—which is in the 
tenth volume of Lope’s plays, with a 
sharp, satirical preface — was repre- 
senting, Sanchez, a well-known autor 
and actor of the time, so mutilated his 
part that the offended audience cried 
out upon him to know the reason 
of his conduct, to which he replied 
that there was a person present, point- 
ing him out, who would carry off the 
whole play in his memory, if it were 
notaltered. The consequence was that, 
after some uproar, Luis de Arellano was 
compelled to leave the theatre. Figu- 
eroa says that he was present and wit- 
nessed this strange scene. Lope de 
Vega, alluding to this mode of stealing 
plays, says there were two persons espe- 
tially skilful in it, one of whom was 
called by the populace (el vulgo) ‘* Me- 
morilla,” and the other ‘‘Gran Memo- 
ria.” ‘*A esto se afiade el hurtar las 
f£omedias estos que llaman el vulgo al 
ano Memorilia y al otro Gran Memoria 
Jos quales con algtrcs versos que apren- 


den mezclan infinitos suyos barbaros, 
con que ganan la vida, vendiendolas,” 
ec. Comedias, Parte XIII., Madrid, 
1620, Prologo. 

33 Montalvan sets the price of each 
play at five hundred reals, and says 
that in this way Lope received, during 
his life, eighty thousand ducats. Obras, 
Tom. XX. p. 47. 

34 The Duke of Sessa alone, besides 
many other benefactions, gave Lope, 
at different times, twenty-four thousand 
ducats, and a sinecure of three hundred 
more per annum. Ut supra. 

85 Libro XX., last three stanzas. 
Again in 1620, dedicating his ‘‘ Ver- 
dadero Amante” to his son Lope, who 
showed poetical aspirations, he alleges 
his own example to warn his child 
never to indulge his taste for verse, 
adding, ‘‘I have, as you know, a poor 
house, and my bed and board are no 
better.” 

86 «<7 have a daughter, and am old,” 


he says. ‘*The Muses give me honor, 
but not income,” etc. (Obras, Tom. 
XVII. p. 401.) From his will it ap- 


pears that Philip IV. promised an office 
to the person who should marry this 
daughter, and failed to keep his word. 
See note at the end of Chap. XIV., 
ante, where in Lope’s will is a notice of 
this claim. en the king. 


Cuar. XVIII.] SPIRIT OF IMPROVISATION. 319 


It should, however, be remembered, that no other 
poet ever wrote so much with popular effect. For, if 
we begin with his dramatic compositions, which are 
the best of his efforts, and go down to his epics, which, 
on the whole, are the worst,” we shall find the amount 
of what was received with favor, as it came from the 
press, quite unparalleled. And when to this we are 
compelled to add his own assurance, just before his 
death, that the greater part of his works still remained 
in manuscript,* we pause in astonishment, and, 
*before we are able to believe the account, de- * 272 
mand some explanation that shall make it cred- 
ible; an explanation which is the more important, 
because it is the key to.much of his personal character, 
as well as of his poetical success. And it is this. No 
poet of any considerable reputation ever had a genius 
so nearly related to that of an improvisator, or ever iIn- 
dulged his genius so freely in the spirit of improvisation. 
This talent has always existed in the southern coun- 
tries of Europe; and in Spain has, from the first, pro- 
duced, in different ways, the most extraordinary results. 
We owe to it the invention and perfection of the old 
ballads, which were originally improvisated and then 
preserved by tradition; and we owe to it the segwdillas, 
the doleros, and all the other forms of popular poetry 





87 Like some other distinguished au- 
thors, however, he was inclined to un- 
dervalue what he did most happily, 
and to prefer what is least worthy of 
preference. Thus, in the Preface to his 
Comedias, (Vol. XV., Madrid, 1621,) 
he shows that he preferred his longer 
po to his plays, which he says he 

olds but ‘‘as the wild-flowers of his 
field, that grow up without care or 
culture.” 

® This might be inferred from the 
account in Montalvan’s ‘‘ Fama Pdéstu- 
ma’; but Lope himself declares it 
distinctly in the ‘‘ Egloga 4 Claudio,” 


where he says, ‘The printed part of 
my writings, though too much, is small, 
compared with what remains unpub- 
lished.” (Obras Sueltas, Tom. IX. p. 
369.) Indeed, we know we have hardly 
a fourth part of his full-length plays ; 
only about thirty autos out of four 
hundred ; only twenty or thirty entre- 
meses out of the ‘‘infinite number” as- 
cribed to him. Pacheco, in his notice 
of Lope, printed in 1609, says that his 
works would give an average of three 
sheets [tres pliegos] for every day of 
his life to that time. Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. XIV.. p. xxxi. 


320 SPIRIT OF IMPROVISATION. [Perron II. 
that still exist in Spain, and are daily poured forth by 
the fervent imaginations of the uncultivated classes of 
the people, and sung to the national music, that some- 
times seems to fill the air by night as the light of the 
sun does by day. 

In the time of Lope de Vega, the passion for such 
improvisation had risen higher than it ever rose before, 
if it had not spread out more widely. Actors were ex- 
pected sometimes to improvisate on themes given to 
them by the audience.” Extemporaneous dramas, with 
all the varieties of verse demanded by a taste formed 
in the theatres, were not of rare occurrence. Philip 
the Fourth, Lope’s patron, had such performed in his 
presence, and bore a part in them himself.*® And the 
famous Count de Lemos, the viceroy of Naples, to 
whom Cervantes was indebted for so much kindness, 
kept, as an apanage to his viceroyalty, a poetical court, 
of which the two Argensolas were the chief ornaments, 
and in which extemporaneous plays were acted with 
brilliant success.¥ , 

* Lope de Vega’s talent was undoubtedly of 
near kindred to this genius of improvisation, 
and produced its extraordinary results by a similar 
process, and in the same spirit. He dictated verse, we 
are told, with ease, more rapidly than an amanuensis 
could take it down;* and wrote out an entire play in 
two days, which could with difficulty be transcribed by 
a copyist in the same time. He was not absolutely 


aT 


39 Bisbe y Vidal, ‘‘ Tratado de Come- 
dias,” (1618, f. 102,) speaks of the 
** glosses which the actors make ex- 
tempore upon lines given to them on 
the stage.”’ 

40 Viardot, Etudes sur la Littérature 
en Espagne, Paris, 1835, 8vo, p. 339. 

41 Pellicer, Biblioteca de Traductores 
Espafioles, (Madrid, 1778, 4to, Tom. I. 
pp. 89-91,) in which there is a curious 


narrative by Diego, Duke of Estrada, 
giving an account of one of these en- 
tertainments, (a burlesque play on the 
story of Orpheus and Eurydice,) per- 
formed before the viceroy arid his court. 
The Count de Lemos, a very accom- 
plished statesman, died in 1622, and 
there is an agreeable life of him in Bar- 
rera, ad verb. 

42 Obras Sueltas, Tom. XX. pp. 51, 52. 


Cuar. XVIII.) SPIRIT OF IMPROVISATION. 820 


an improvisator, for his education and position natu- 
rally led him to devote himself to written composition, 
but he was continually on the borders of whatever 
belongs to an improvisator’s peculiar province ; he was 
continually showing, in his merits and defects, in his 
ease, grace, and sudden resource, in his wildness and 
extravagance, in the happiness of his versification and 
the prodigal abundance of his imagery, that a very 
little more freedom, a very little more indulgence 
given to his feelings and his fancy, would have made 
him at once and entirely, not only an improvisator, but 
the most remarkable one that ever lived. 


VOL. Il. 21 


* 274 "30 DiAsPAL Ee Rag hele, 


QUEVEDO.—HIS LIFE, PUBLIC SERVICE, AND PERSECUTIONS.—HIS WORKS, 
PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED. — HIS POETRY.— THE BACHILLER FRAN- 
CISCO DE LA TORRE.—HIS PROSE WORKS, RELIGIOUS AND DIDACTIC. — 
HIS PAUL THE SHARPER, PROSE SATIRES, AND VISIONS.— HIS CHARACTER. 


FRANCISCO GOMEZ DE QUEVEDO Y VILLEGAS, the 
contemporary of both Lope de Vega and Cervantes, 
was horn at Madrid, in 1580.1. His family came from 
that mountainous region at the northwest, to which, 
like other Spaniards, he was well pleased to trace his 
origin ;? but his father held an office of some dig- 
nity at the court of Philip the Second, which led to 


1 A diffuse life of Quevedo was pub- 
lished at Madrid, in 1663, by Don Pa- 
blo Antonio de Tarsia, a Neapolitan, 
and is inserted in the tenth volume of 
the edition of Quevedo’s Works, by 
Sancha, Madrid, 1791-1794, 11 tom., 
8vo. A shorter, and, on the whole, a 
more satisfactory, life of him is to be 
found in Baena, Hijos de Madrid, Tom. 
II. pp. 187-154; but the best is the 
one prefixed to the collection of Queve- 
do’s Works, the first and second vol- 
umes of which are in the Biblioteca de 
Autores Espafioles, (Tom. XXIII., 1852, 
and Tom. XLVIII., 1859,) and edited 
with extraordinary knowledge of what- 
ever relates to its subject, by Don Au- 
reliano Fernandez Guerra y Orbe. It 
is only to be regretted that this work 
has not yet (1859) been continued, but 
I trust it will be. No Spanish author 
will better reward care and diligence in 
explanatory notes than Quevedo, and 
none needs them more. I must be per- 
mitted to add, that I do not accept all 
Don Aureliano’s conclusions, such, for 
instance, as that Quevedo in all he 
wrote, even in his Suefios, had a political 
purpose in view. See pp. x, xv, and xxi. 


2 In his ‘‘ Grandes Anales de Quince 
Dias,” speaking of the powerful Presi- 
dent Acevedo, he says: ‘‘1 was unwel- 
come to him, because, coming myself 
from the mountains, I never flattered 
the ambition he had to make himself 
out to be abeve men to whom we, in 
our own homes, acknowledge no supe- 
riors.” Obras, Tom. XI. p. 63. 

An anecdote will show how much 
was thought of this mountain spirit of 
honor, which was supposed to descend 
from the days of Pelayo, when the 
mountain country alone kept its loyalty 
and faith. After Philip IV. had en- 
tered Pamplona, 23d April, 1646, he 
called to him the Marquis of Carpio, 
who bore the sword of state, and 
sheathed it with his own royal hands, 
because, as he declared, in that king- 
dom it was not needed: ‘‘ thus,” says 
the contemporary account, ‘‘ giving 
those about him to understand that 
all the men of Navarre were faithful 
and loyal.” Relacion embiada de Pam- 
plona de la Entrada que hizo su Ma- 
gestad en aquella Ciudad. Sevilla, 1646, 
4to, pp. 4. 


Cuar. XIX.] FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO. $23 


his residence *in the capital at the period of * 275 
his son’s birth ; — a circumstance which was no 

doubt favorable to the development of the young 
man’s talents. But whatever were his opportunities, 
we know that, when he was fifteen years old, he was 
graduated in theology at the University of Alcala, 
where he not only made himself master of such of the 
ancient and modern languages as would be most useful 
to him, but extended his studies into the civil and 
canon law, mathematics, medicine, politics, and other 
still more various branches of knowledge, showing that 
he was thus early possessed with the ambition of be- 
coming a universal scholar. His accumulations, in fact, 
were vast, as the learning scattered through his works 
plainly proves, and bear witness, not less to his ex- 
treme industry than to his extraordinary natural en- 
dowments. 

On his return to Madrid, he seems to have been 
associated both with the distinguished scholars and 
with the fashionable cavaliers of the time; and an 
adventure, in which, as a man of honor, he found him- 
self accidentally involved, had wellnigh proved fatal 
to his better aspirations. A woman of respectable 
appearance, while at her devotions in one of the 
parish churches of Madrid, during Holy Week, was 
grossly insulted in his presence. He defended her, 
though both parties were quite unknown to him. A 
duel followed on the spot; and, at its conclusion, it 
was found he had killed a person of rank. He fled, 
of course, and, taking refuge in Sicily, was invited to 
the splendid court then held there by the Duke of 
Ossuna, viceroy of Philip the Third, and was soon 
afterwards employed in important affairs of state, 
— sometimes, as we are told by his nephew, in such 





324 FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO. [Perron II. 


as required personal courage and involved danger to 
his life.® 

* At the conclusion of the Duke of Ossuna’s 
administration of Sicily, Quevedo was sent, in 
1615, to Madrid, as a sort of plenipotentiary to confirm 
to the crown all past grants of revenue from the island, 
and to offer still further subsidies. So welcome a mes- 
senger was not ungraciously received. His former 
offence was overlooked; a pension of four hundred 
ducats was given him; and he returned, in great 
honor, to the Duke, his patron, who was already trans- 
ferred to the more important and agreeable viceroyalty 
of Naples. 

Quevedo now became minister of finance at Naples, 
and fulfilled the duties of his place so skilfully and 
honestly, that, without increasing the burdens of the 
people, he added to the revenues of the state. An 
important negotiation with Rome was also intrusted 
to his management; and in 1617 he was again in 
Madrid, and stood before the king with such favor, 
that he was made a knight of the Order of Santiago. 
On his return to Naples, or at least during the nine 
years he was absent from Spain, he made treaties with 
Venice and Savoy, as well as with the Pope, and was 
almost constantly occupied in difficult and delicate 
affairs connected with the administration of the Duke 
of Ossuna. 


But in 1620 all this was changed. The Duke fell 


* 276 


mantic that its reality has sometimes 


8 | think his life was in greater dan- 
ger somewhat later, — at Venice in 
1618, — when, by means of his per- 
fect Venetian accent, he escaped, in 
the disguise of a beggar, from the offi- 
cers of justice, who pursued him as one 
involved in the conspiracy which St. 
Real, Lafosse, and Otway have rendered 
classical, but which is so wild and ro- 


been doubted. He was subsequent- 
ly burnt in effigy, after the fashion 
of the Inquisition, by order of the 
Venetian Senate, but he was not, I 
think, guilty of the particular offence 
they imputed to him; a matter, no 
doubt, of small consequence in their 
eyes. 


Cuar. XIX.] FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO. 325 


from power, and those who had been his ministers 
shared his fate. Quevedo was exiled to his patrimonial 
estate of Torre de Juan Abad, where and elsewhere he 
endured an imprisonment or detention of two years 
and a half; and then was released without trial and 
without having had any definite offence laid to his 
charge. He was, however, cured of all desire for pub- 
lic honors or royal favor. He refused the place of 
Secretary of State, and that of Ambassador to Genoa, 
both of which were offered him, accepting the merely 
titular rank of Secretary to the King. He, in fact, was 
now determined to give himself to letters; and did so 
for the rest of his life. But though he never took 
office, he occasionally mingled in the political dis- 
cussions of his time, as may be seen in his “Tira la 
Piedra,” which is on the debasement of the coin 
(already sternly rebuked by * Mariana); in his * 277 
“Memorial de St. Iago,” which cost him an exile 
of several months in 1628; and in his letter to Louis 
the Thirteenth on the war of 1635. Others of his minor 
works show that such interests always tempted him. 
In 1634 he was married; but his wife soon died, 
and left him to contend alone with the troubles of 
life that still pursued him. In 1639 some satirical 
verses were placed under the king’s napkin at dinner- 
time; and, without proper inquiry, they were attrib- 
uted to Quevedo. In consequence of this he was 
seized, late at night, with great suddenness and se- 
crecy, in the palace of the Duke of Medina-Coeli, and 
thrown into rigorous confinement in the royal con- 
vent of San Marcos de Leon. There, in a damp and ~ 
unwholesome cell, his health was soon broken down 
by diseases from which he never recovered; and the 
little that remained to him of his property was wasted 


[PERIOD IL 


326 FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO. 


away till he was obliged to depend on charity for sup- 
port. With all these cruelties the unprincipled favor- 
ite of the time, the Count Duke Olivares, seems to 
have been connected; and the anger they naturally 
excited in the mind of Quevedo may well account for 
two papers against that minister which have generally 
been attributed to him, and which are full of personal 
severity and bitterness* A heart-rending letter, too, 
which, when he had been nearly two years in prison, 
he wrote to Olivares, should be taken into the account, 
in which he in vain appeals to his persecutor’s sense of 
justice, tellmg him, in his despair, “No clemency can 
add many years to my life; no rigor can take many 
away.’ ° At last, the hour of the favorite’s disgrace 
arrived; and, amidst the jubilee of Madrid, he was 

driven into exile. The release of Quevedo fol- 
*278 lowed as a matter * of course, since it was al- 

ready admitted that another had written the 
verses® for which he had been punished by nearly 


four years of the most unjust suffering.’ 


* The first is the very curious paper 
entitled ‘*Caida de su Privanza y Muerte. 
del Conde Duque de Olivares,” in the 
Seminario Erudito (Madrid, 1787, 4to, 
Tom. III.) ; and the other is ‘* Memorial 
de Don F. Quevedo contra el Conde 
Duque de Olivares,” in the same col- 
lection, Tom. XV. 

5 This letter, often reprinted, is in 
Mayans y Siscar, ‘‘ Cartas Morales,” 
etc., Valencia, 1773, 12mo, Tom. I. p. 
151. Another letter to his friend Adan 
de la Parra, giving an account of his 
mode of life during his confinement, 
shows that he was extremely industri- 
ous. Indeed, industry was his main 
resource a large part of the time he was 
in San Marcos de Leon. Seminario 
Erudito, Tom. I. p. 65. 

5 Sedano, Parnaso Espafiol, Tom. IV. 
p- XXxi. 

7 In his Dedication of his Life of St. 
Paul to the President of Castile, we 
have this extraordinary account of his 
arrest and imprisonment :— 


**T was seized in a manner So rigor- 
ous at eleven o'clock on the night of 
the 7th of December, and hurried away, 
in my old age, so unprovided, that the 
officer who made the arrest gave me a 
baize cloak and two shirts, by way of 
alms, and one of the alguazils gave me 
some woollen stockings. I was impris- 
oned four years, —two of them as if I 
were a wild beast, shut up alone, with- 
out human intercourse, and where I 
should have died of hunger and destitu- 
tion if the charity of my Lord the Duke 
of Medina-Ceeli had not been in place 
of a sure and full patrimony to me down 
to the present day. From this cruel 
chain of linked calamities, the justice 
and mercy of his Majesty released me 
by means of a petition given to him by 
your Excellency, to whom I referred 
my cause, in the whole course of which 
no complaint was ever made against 
me, nor any confession asked of me, 
neither after my release was any judicial 
paper found in relation to it.” Obras, 


Cuap, XIX.] 


FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO. 327 


But justice came too late. Quevedo remained, in- 
deed, a little time at Madrid, among his friends, en- 
deavoring to recover some of his lost property ; but 
failing in this, and unable to subsist in the capital, 
he retired to the mountains from which his race had 
descended. His infirmities, however, accompanied him 
wherever he went; his spirits sunk under his trials and 
sorrows; and he died, wearied out with life, in 1645. 

Quevedo sought success, as a man of letters, in a 
great number of departments,— from theology and 
metaphysics down to stories of vulgar life and Gypsy 
ballads. But many of his manuscripts were taken 
from him when his papers were twice seized by the 
government, and many others seem to have been 
accidentally lost in the course of a life full of change 
and adventure. From these and other causes, his 
friend Antonio de Tarsia tells us that the greater part 
of his works could not be published; and we know 
that many are still to be found in his own handwriting 
both in the National Library of Madrid, and in 
other collections, public and private.’ * Those 
already printed fill eleven considerable volumes, 
eight of prose and three of poetry; leaving us prob- 
ably little to regret concerning the fate of the rest, 
unless, perhaps, it be the loss of his dramas, of which 
two are said to have been represented with applause 
at Madrid, during his lifetime.” 


"21g 


Tom. VI. p. 8. His confinement ex- 
tended from December 7, 1639, to early 
in June, 1643: 

8 His nephew, in a Preface to the 
second volume of his uncle’s Poems, 
(published at Madrid, 1670, 4to,) says 
that Quevedo died of two imposthumes 
on his chest, which were formed during 
his last imprisonment. 

The portrait of Quevedo, wearing a 
huge pair of spectacles, which is well 
engraved for the fourth volume of Se- 


dano’s Parnaso Espaiiol, is by Velaz- 
quez, and is strongly marked with the 
character we attribute to the author of 
the Visions. Stirling’s Artists of Spain, 
1848, Vol. II. p. 635. 

9 Obras, Tom. X. p. 45, and N. An- 
tonio, Bib. Nova, Tom. I. p. 463. A 
considerable amount of his miscella- 
neous works may be found in the Semi- 
nario Erudito, Tom. I., III., VI., and 
XV. 

19 Besides these dramas, whose names 


328 QUEVEDO’S POETRY. (Perron IL. 


Of his poetry, so far as we know, he himself pub- 
lished nothing with his name, except such as occurs in 
his poor translations from Epictetus and Phocylides ; 
but in the tasteful and curious collection of his friend 
Pedro de Espinosa, called “Flowers of 'Ilustrious 
Poets,’ printed when Quevedo was only twenty-five 
years old, a few of his minor poems are to be found. 
This was probably his first appearance as an author; 
and it is worthy of notice, that, taken together, these 
few poems announce much of his future poetical 
character, and that two or three of them, like the 
one beginning, 

A wight of might 

Is Don Money, the knight,” 1 
are among his happy efforts. But though he himself 
published scarcely any of them, the amount of his 
verses found after his death is represented to have 
been very great; much greater, we are assured, than 
could be discovered among his papers a few years 
later,” — probably because, just before he died, “he 
denounced,” as we are told, “all his works to the 
Holy Tribunal of the Inquisition, in order that the 
parts less becoming a modest reserve might be re- 
duced, as they were, to just measure by serious and 
prudent reflection.” 


are unknown to us, he wrote, in con- 
junction with Ant. Hurtado de Men- 
doza, and at the command of the Count 
Duke Olivares, who afterwards treated 
him so cruelly, a play called ‘‘ Quien 
_ Inas miente, medra mas,” — He that lies 
most, will rise most, — for the gorgeous 
entertainment that prodigal minister 
gave to Philip IV. on St. John’s eve, 
1631. See the account of it in the no- 
tice of Lope de Vega, ante, p. 212, and 
post, Chapter XXI., note. There were 
ten ‘‘entremeses” and ten ‘‘bayles” 
among his dramas, some of which were 
published by his nephew in the ‘‘ Tres 
Ultimas Musas” in 1670, and some in 


the ‘‘Entremeses Nuevos, 1643”; but 
I think there are others still in manu- 


script. 
11 Poderoso cavallero 
Es Don Dinero, ete., 


is in Pedro Espinosa, ‘‘ Flores de Poetas 
Ilustres,” Madrid, 1605,° 4to, f. 18. 

12 **Not the twentieth part was saved 
of the verses which many persons knew 
to have been extant at the time of his 
death, and which, during our constant 
intercourse, I had countless times held 
in my hands,” says Gonzalez de Salas, 
in the Preface to the first part of Que- 
vedo’s Poems, 1648. , 

18 Preface to Tom. VII. of Obras. 


29 


wo 


Cuap. XIX.] QUEVEDO’S POETRY. 


*Such of his poetry as was easily found was, *280 
however, published ; — the first part by his 
learned friend Gonzalez de Salas, in 1648, and the 
rest, in a most careless and crude manner, by his 
nephew, Pedro Alderete, in 1670, under the conceited 
title of “The Spanish Parnassus, divided into its Two 
Summits, with the Nine Castilian Muses.” The col- 
lection itself is very miscellaneous, and it is not always 
easy to determine why the particular pieces of which 
it is composed were assigned rather to the protection 
of one Muse than of another. In general, they are 
short. Sonnets and ballads are far more numerous 
than anything else; though canciones, odes, elegies, | 
epistles, satires of all kinds, idyls, guzntidlas, and redon- 
dillas are in great abundance. There are, besides, four 
entremeses of little value, and the fragment of a poem 
on the subject of Orlando Furioso, intended to be in the 
manner of Berni, but running too much into caricature. 
The longest of the nine divisions is that which passes 
under the name and authority of Thalia, the goddess 
who presided over rustic wit, as well as over comedy. 
Indeed, the more prominent characteristics of the 
whole collection are a-broad, grotesque humor, and a 
satire sometimes marked with imitations of the an- 
cients, especially of Juvenal and Persius, but oftener 
overrun with puns, and crowded with conceits and 
allusions, not easily understood at the time they first 
appeared, and now quite unintelligible.* His bur- 


His request on his death-bed, that 
nearly all his works, printed or manu- 
script, might be suppressed, is trium- 
phantly recorded in the Index Expur- 
gatorius of 1667, p. 425. Some of them 
are, no doubt, foul with an indecency 
which will never permit them to be 
printed, or, at least, never ought to 
permit it. 


14 **Tog equivocos y las alusiones 
suyas,”’ says his editor in 1648, ‘‘son 
tan frequentes y multiplicados, aquellos 
y estas, ansI en un solo verso y aun en 
una palabra, que es bien infalible que 
mucho numero sin advertirse se haya 
de perder.” Obras, Tom. VII., Elo- 
gios, etc. 


530 QUEVEDO’S POETRY. (Pertop II. 


lesque sonnets, in imitation of the Italian poems of 
that class, are the best in the language, and have a 
bitterness rarely found in company with so much wit. 
Some of his lighter ballads, too, are to be placed in the 
very first rank, and fifteen that he wrote in the wild 
dialect of the Gypsies have ever since been the de- 
light of the lower classes of his countrymen, and 
are still, or were lately, to be heard among 
*281 their* other popular poetry, sung to the guitars 
of the peasants and the soldiery throughout 
Spain.” In regular satire he has generally followed 
the path trodden by Juvenal ; and, in the instances of 
his complaint “‘ Against the Existing Manners of the 
Castilians,” and “The Dangers of Marriage,’ has 
proved himself a bold and successful disciple.” Some 
of his amatory poems, and some of those on religious 
subjects, especially when they are in a melancholy 
tone, are full of beauty and tenderness; and once 
or twice, when most didactic, he is no less powerful 
than grave and lofty.® 
His chief fault— besides the mndecency of some of 
his poetry, and the obscurity and extravagance that 
pervade yet more of it—is the use of words and 
phrases that are low and essentially unpoetical. This, 
so far as we can now judge, was the result partly of 
haste and carelessness, and partly of a false theory. 
He sought for strength, and he became affected and 


15 They are at the end of the seventh 
volume of the Obras, and also in Hidal- 
go, ‘‘Romances de Germania” (Madrid, 
1779, 12mo, pp. 226-295). Of the 
lighter ballads in good Castilian, we 
may notice, especially, ‘‘ Padre Adan, 
no lloreis duelos,” (Tom. VIII. p. 187,)} 
and ‘* Dijo ala rana el mosquito,”” Tom. 
VII. p. 514. 

16 Obras, Tom. VII. pp. 192-200, 
and VIII. pp. 533-550. The last is 


somewhat coarse, though not so bad as 
its model in this respect. 

7 See the cancion (Tom. VII. p. 323) 
beginning, ‘‘ Pues quita al aio Prima- 
vera el ceho” ; also some of the poems 
in the ‘‘Erato” to the lady he calls 
‘* Vili,” who seems to have been more 
loved by him than any other. 

18 Particularly in ‘‘ The Dream,” 
(Tom. 1X. p. 296,) and in the ‘‘ Hymn 
to the Stars,” p. 338. 


Car. XIX.] QUEVEDO’S POETRY. BS 


rude. But we should not judge him too severely. He 
wrote a great deal, and with extraordinary facility, but 
refused to print; professing his intention to correct 
and prepare his poems for the press when he should 
have more leisure and a less anxious mind. That time, 
however, never came. We should, therefore, rather 
wonder that we find in his works so many passages of 
the purest and most brilliant wit and poetry, than com- 
plain that they are scattered through so very large a 
mass of what is idle, unsatisfactory, and sometimes 
unintelligible. 

Once, and once only, Quevedo published a small 
volume of poetry, which has been supposed to be his 
own, though not originally appearing as such. The 
occasion was worthy of his genius, and his suc- 
cess was equal to *the occasion. For some * 282 
time, Spanish literature had been overrun with 
a species of affectation resembling the euphuism that 
prevailed in England a little earlier. It passed under 
the name of ecultismo, or the polite style; and when we 
come to speak of its more distinguished votaries, we 
shall have occasion fully to explain its characteristic 
extravagances. At present, it is enough to say, that, 
in Quevedo’s time, this fashionable fanaticism was at 
the height of its folly ; and that, perceiving its absurd- 
ity, he launched against it the shafts of his unsparing 
ridicule, in several shorter pieces of poetry, as well as 
in a trifle called “ A Compass for the Polite to steer by,” 
and in a prose satire called “A Catechism of Phrases 
’ to teach Ladies how to talk Latinized Spanish.” ” 

But finding the disease deeply fixed in the national 

19 There are several poems about cwl- lowing it is the Catechism, whose 
tismo, Obras, Tom. VIII., pp. 82, ete. whimsical title 1 have abridged some- 


The ‘‘ Aguja de Navegar Cultos” is in what freely. 
Tom. I. p. 443; and immediately fol- 


332 [Pertop II, 


EL BACHILLER DE LA TORRE. 
taste, and models of a purer style of poetry wanting 
to resist it, he printed, in 1631,—the same year in 
which, for the same purpose, he published a collection 
of the poetry of Luis de Leon, —a small volume which 
he announced as “Poems by the Bachiller Francisco 
de la Torre,’ — a person of whom he professed, in his 
Preface, to know nothing, except that he had acci- 
dentally found his manuscripts in the hands of a book- 
seller, with the Approbation of Alonso de Ercilla at- 
tached to them; and that he supposed him to be the 
ancient Spanish poet referred to by Boscan nearly a 
hundred years before. But this little volume is a work 
of no small consequence. It contains sonnets, odes, 
canciones, elegies, and eclogues; many of them written 
with antique grace and simplicity, and all in a style 
of thought easy and natural, and in a versification of 
great exactness and harmony. It is, in short, one of 
the best volumes of miscellaneous poems in the Spanish 
language.” 

*No suspicion seems to have been whispered, 
either at the moment of their first publication, 
or for a long time afterwards, that these poems were 
the productions of any other than the unknown per- 
sonage of the sixteenth century whose name appeared 
on their title-page. In 1753, however, a second edition 
of them was published by Velazquez, the author of the 
“ Essay on Spanish Poetry,” claiming them to be entirely 


* 283 


- in 


20 Perhaps there is a little too much 
of the imitation of Petrarch and of the 
Italians in the Poems of the Bachiller 
de la Torre ; but they are, I think, not 
only graceful and beautiful, but gen- 
erally full of the national tone, and of 
a tender spirit, connected with a sincere 
love of nature and natural scenery. I 
would instance the ode, ‘‘ Alexis que 
contraria,” in the edition of Velazquez, 
(p. 17,) and the truly Horatian ode 


(p. 44) beginning, ‘‘O tres y quatro veces 
venturosa,” with the description of the 
dawn of day, and the sonnet to Spring © 
(p. 12). The first eclogue, too, and all 
the endechas, which are in the most 
flowing Adonian verse, should not be 
overlooked. Sometimes he has un- 
rhymed lyrics, in the ancient measures, 
not always successful, but seldom with- 
out beauty. 


Onar. XIX.] EL BACHILLER DE LA TORRE. 333 
the work of Quevedo ;*!— a claim which has been fre- 
quently noticed since, some critics admitting and some 
denying it, but none, in any instance, fairly discussing 
the grounds on which it is placed by Velazquez, or 
settling their validity.” 

The question, no doubt, is among the more curious 
of those that involve literary authorship; but it can 
hardly be brought to an absolute decision. The argu- 
ment, that the poems thus published by Quevedo are 
really the work of an unknown Bachiller de la Torre, 
is founded, first, on the alleged approbation of them 
by Ercilla,” which, though referred to by Valdivielso, 
as well as by Quevedo, has never been printed ; and, 
secondly, on the fact, that, in their general tone, they 
are unlike the recognized poetry of Quevedo, 
being all in a severely simple and * pure style, * 284 
whereas he himself not infrequently runs into 
the affected style he undoubtedly intended by this 
work to counteract and condemn. 

On the other hand, it may be alleged, that the pre- 
tended Bachiller de la Torre is clearly not the Bachiller 
de la Torre referred to by Boscan and Quevedo, who 


in his Life of Quevedo ; Sedano, in his 


21 ¢¢ Poesias que publicd D. Francisco 
‘*Parnaso Espafiol”; Luzan, in his 


de Quevedo Villegas, Cavallero del Or- 


den de Santiago, Sefior de la Torre de 
Juan Abad, con el nombre del Bachiller 
Francisco de la Torre. Aiiadese en esta 
segunaa edicion un Discurso, en que se 
descubre ser el verdadero autor el mismo 
D. Francisco de Quevedo, por D. Luis 
Joseph Velazquez,” etc. Madrid, 1753, 
4to. 

22 Quintana denies it in the Preface 
to his Poesias Castellanas” (Madrid, 
1807, 12mo, Tom. I. p. xxxix). So 
does Fernandez, (or Estala for him, ) in 
his Collection of ‘‘ Poesias Castellanas” 
(Madrid, 1808, 12mo, Tom. IV. p. 40); 
and, what is of more significance, so 
does Wolf, in the Jahrbiicher der Lite- 
ratur, Wien, 1835, Tom. LXIX. p. 189. 
On the other side are Alvarez y Baena, 


**Poética” ; Montiano, in an Aproba- 
cion; and Bouterwek, in his History. 
Martinez de la Rosa and Faber seem 
unable to decide. But none of them 
gives any reasons. I have in the text, 
and in the subsequent notes, stated the 
case as fully as seems needful, and have 
no doubt that Quevedo was the author ; 
or that he knew and concealed the au- 
thor; or if he really found the manu- 
script in the way he describes, that he 
altered and prepared the poetry in it so 
as to fit it to his especial purpose. 

23 We know, concerning the conclu- 
sion of Ercilla’s life, only that he died 
as early as 1595 ; thirty-six years before 
the publication of the Bachelor, and 
when Quevedo was only fifteen years old. 


[Perron II. 


Soa8 EL BACHILLER DE LA TORRE. 


lived in the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, and whose 
rude verses are found in the old Cancioneros from 1511 
to 1573 ;* that, on the contrary, the forms of the poems 
published by Quevedo, their tone, their thoughts, their 
imitations of Petrarch and of the ancients, their versi- 
fication, and their language, — except a few antiquated 
words which could easily have been inserted, — all be- 
long to his own age; that among Quevedo’s recognized 
poems are some, at least, which prove he was capable 
of writing any one among those attributed to the Ba- 
chiller de la Torre; and finally, that the name of the 
Bachiller Francisco de la Torre is merely an ingenious 
disguise of his own, since he was himself a Bachelor at 
Alcala, had been baptized Francisco, and was the owner 
of Torre de la Abad, in which he sometimes resided, 
and which was twice the place of his exile.” 

There is, therefore, no doubt, a mystery about the 
whole matter which will probably never be cleared up; 
and we can now come to only one of three conclu- 
sions : — either that the poems in question were found 
by him, as he says they were, in which case he must 
have altered them materially, so that they could serve 
the object he avowed in publishing them; or that they 

are the work of some contemporary and friend 
* 285 of Quevedo, whose name *he knew and con- 


24 Tt is even doubtful who this Bachil- 
ler de la Torre of Boscan was. Velaz- 


the few poems which may be found in 
the Cancionero of 1573, at ff. 124-127, 


quez (Pref., v) thinks it was probably 
Alonso de la Torre, author of the 
** Vision Deleytable,” (circa 1461,) of 
which we have spoken (Vol. I. p. 377); 
and Alvarez y Baena (Hijos de Madrid, 
Tom. IV. p. 169) thinks it may per- 
haps have been Pedro Diaz de la Torre, 
who died in 1504, one of the counsel- 
lors of Ferdinand and Isabella. But, 
in either case, the name does not cor- 
respond with that of Quevedo’s Bachil- 
ler Francisco de la Torre, any better 
than the style, thoughts, and forms of 


etc., do with those published by Que- 
vedo. Gayangos (Spanish translation 
of this History, Tom. II. p. 560) says 
there are, in the Cancionero of Estuni- 
ga, poems by a Fernando de la Torre, 
and that he lived in the time of John 
II., i. e. before 1454. But, as Gayan- 
gos adds truly, this does not, en lo 
mas minimo, help to clear up the ques- 
tion. 

25 He was exiled there in 1628, for 
six months, as well as imprisoned there 
in 1620. Obras, Tom. X. p. 88. 


Cuar. XIX.] QUEVEDO’S PROSE WORKS. 300 


cealed; or that they were selected by himself out 
of the great mass of his own unpublished manu- 
scripts, choosing such as would be least likely to betray 
their origin, and most likely, by their exact finish and 
good taste, to rebuke the folly of the affected and 
fashionable poetry of his time. But whoever may be 
their author, one thing is certain,— they are not un- 
worthy the genius of any poet belonging to the bril- 
liant age in which they appeared.” 

Quevedo’s principal works, however, — those on 
which his reputation mainly rests, both at home and 
abroad, —are in prose. The more grave will hardly 
come under our cognizance. They consist of a trea- 
tise on the Providence of God, including an essay on 
the Immortality of the Soul; a treatise addressed to 
Philip the Fourth, singularly called “ God’s Politics 
and Christ’s Government,” in which he endeavors to 
collect a complete body of political philosophy from 
the example of the Saviour ;” treatises on a Holy 
Life and on the Militant Life of a Christian; and 
biographies of Saint Paul and Saint Thomas of 
Villanueva. These, with translations of Epictetus 
and the false Phocylides, of Anacreon, of Seneca, 


26 It is among the suspicious circum- 
stances accompanying the first publi- 
cation of the Bachiller de la Torre’s 
works, that one of the two persons who 
give the required Aprobaciones is Van- 
der Hammen, who played the same sort 
of trick upon the public of which Que- 
vedo is accused ; a vision he wrote be- 
ing, to this day, printed as Quevedo’s 
own, in Quevedo’s works. The other 
pore who gives an Aprobacion to the 

achiller de la Torre is Valdivielso, a 
critic of the seventeenth century, whose 
name often occurs in this play ; whose 
authority on such points is small ; and 
who does not say that he ever saw the 
manuscript or the Approbation of Er- 
cilla. See, for Vander Hammen, post, 
p. 291. 


27 His ‘‘ Politica de Dios” was begun 
during his first imprisonment, and the 
first edition — or rather what was sub- 
sequently enlarged into the First Book 
—of it was published in 1626, with a 
dedication dated from his prison, 25th 
April, 1621, to the Count Olivares, who 
became afterwards his cruel persecutor. 
This dedication, however, was super- 
seded by one to the King, prefixed to 
the completed treatise, and found among 
Quevedo’s papers after his death. I 
have a copy of the very curious edition 
first above referred to, which, with sev- 
eral other of his works, was published 
at Zaragoza, probably, I think, because 
the censorship of the press was a little 
less severe in Aragon than it was in 
Castile. 


336 PAUL THE SHARPER. [Perron It. 


“De Remediis utriusque Fortune,’ of Plutarch’s 
“ Marcus Brutus,’ and other similar works, seem to 
have been chiefly produced by his sufferings, and 
to have constituted the occupation of his weary 

hours during his different imprisonments. As 
*286 their titles indicate, * they belong, except the 

Anacreon, to theology and metaphysics rather 
than to elegant literature. They, however, sometimes 
show the spirit and the style that mark his serious 
poetry ;— the same love of brilliancy, and the same 
extravagance and hyperbole, with occasional didactic 
passages full of dignity and eloquence. ‘Their learn- 
ing 1s generally abundant, but it is often pedantic 
and cumbersome.* 

Not so his prose satires. By these he is remem- 
bered, and will always be remembered, throughout 
the world. The longest of them, called “The His- 
tory and Life of the Great Sharper, Paul of Segovia,” 
was first printed in 1626. It belongs to the style 
of fiction invented by Mendoza, in his “ Lazarillo,” 
and has most of the characteristics of its class; show- 
ing, notwithstanding the evident haste and careless- 
ness with which it was written, more talent and spirit 
than any of them, except its prototype. Like the rest, 
it sets forth the life of an adventurer, cowardly, inso- 


8 These works, chiefly theological, 
metaphysical, and ascetic, fill more than 
six of the eleven octavo volumes that 
constitute Quevedo’s works in the edi- 
tion of 1791-1794, and belong to the 
class of didactic prose. 

The Life of St. Thomas de Villanue- 
va, by Quevedo, is an abridgment, has- 
tily made in twelve days from a larger 
work on the same subject, to meet the 
popular demand for the approaching 
canonization of that admirable person 
in 1620. It makes a neat little volume, 
which I possess, and which may be read 
with pleasure by the severest Protes- 
tant, — with the same pleasure that he 


would look on one of Murillo’s grand 
pictures of the charities of the same 
beneficent man of God. This little 
volume, it should be added, is the 
earliest of Quevedo’s known publica- 
tions, and one of the rarest books in 
the world. 

Quevedo valued himself a good deal 
on his ‘‘ Marco Bruto,” which he was 
employed in correcting just before he 
died, and on his ‘‘ Romulo,” which was 
a translation from a work of the same 
title, by the Marquis Malvezzi, an Ital- 
ian diplomatist much in the service of 
Philip IV., and at one time his Ambas- 
sador in London. 


Car. XIX.] PAUL THE SHARPER. 337 


lent, and full of resources, who begins in the lowest 
and most infamous ranks of society, but, unlike most 
others of his class, he never fairly rises above his 
original condition; for all his ingenuity, wit, and 
spirit onty enable him to struggle up, as it were by 
accident, to some brilliant success, from which he is 
immediately precipitated by the discovery of his true 
character. Parts of it are very coarse. Once or twice 
it becomes — at least according to the notions of the 
Romish Church — blasphemous. And almost always 
it is in the nature of a caricature, overrun with con- 
ceits, puns, and a reckless, fierce humor. But every- 
where it teems with wit and the most cruel 
sarcasm against all * orders and conditions of * 287 
society. Some of its love adventures are excel- 

lent. Many of the disasters it records are extremely 
ludicrous. But there is nothing genial in it; and it 1s 
hardly possible to read even its scenes of frolic and 
riot at the University, or those among the gay rogues 
of the capital or the gayer vagabonds of a strolling 
company of actors, with anything like real satisfaction. 
It is a satire too hard, coarse, and unrelenting to be 
amusing.” 


29 Watt, in his Bibliotheca, art. Que- 
vedo, cites an edition of ‘‘ El Gran Ta- 
cafio,”’ at Zaragoza, 1626; and I think 
there is a copy of it in the British 
Museum. Since that time, it has ap- 
peared in the original in a great num- 
ber of editions, both at home and 
abroad. Into Italian it was translated 
by P. Franco, as early as 1634; into 
French by Genest, the well-known 
translator of that period, as early as 
1641; and into English, anonymously, 
as early as 1657. Many other versions 
have been made since ;— the last, known 
to me, being one of Paris, 1843, 8vo, 
by A. Germond de Lavigne. His trans- 
lation is made with spirit ; but, besides 
that he has thrust into it passages from 
other works of Quevedo, and a story by 


VOL, II. 22 


Salas Barbadillo, he has made a mul- 
titude of petty additions, alterations, 
and omissions ; some desirable, per- 
haps, from the indecency of the origi- 
nal, others not; and winds off the whole 
with a conclusion of his own, which 
savors of the sentimental and extrava- 
gant school of Victor Hugo. There is, 
also, a translation of it into English, 
in a collection of some of Quevedo’s 
Works, printed at Edinburgh, in 3 
vols., 8vo, 1798; and a German trans- 
lation in Bertuch’s Magazin der Span- 
ischen und Portug. Litteratur (Dessau, 
1781, 8vo, Band JI.). But neither of 
them is to be commended for its fidel- 
ity. Dr. Julius says, there was a Ger- 
man translation of it published at Leip- 
zig (1826, 2 vols.) by a female hand, 


338 


OTHER PROSE SATIRES. [PERIopD JJ. 


This, too, is the character of most of his other 
prose satires, which were chiefly written, or at least 
published, nearly at the same period of his life ;— the 
interval between his two great imprisonments, when 
the first had roused up all his indignation against a 
condition of society which could permit such intol- 
erable injustice as he had suffered, and before the 
crushing severity of the last had broken down alike 
his health and his courage. Among them are the 
treatise “On all Things and many more,” — an attack 
on pretension and cant; “The Tale of Tales,” which is 
in ridicule of the too frequent use of proverbs; and 
“'Time’s Proclamation,’ which is apparently directed 
against whatever came uppermost in its author's 
thoughts when he was writing it. These, however, 
with several more of the same sort, may be passed 
over to speak of a few better known and of more 
importance.” 

*The first is called the “Letters of the 
Knight of the Forceps,” and consists of two- 
and-twenty notes of a miser to his lady-love, refusing 
all her applications and hints for money, or for amuse- 
ments that involve the slightest expense. Nothing 
can exceed their dexterity, or the ingenuity and wit 
that seem anxious to defend and vindicate the mean 
vice, which, after all, they are only making so much 
the more ridiculous and odious.” 

The next is called “ Fortune no Fool, and the Hour 
of All” ;—a long apologue, in which Jupiter, sur- 


* 288 


and another by Guttenstern in 1841. 
He kindly forbears to give the lady’s 
name, though she had put it on her 
own title-page. 

30 They are in Vols. I. and II. of the 
edition of his Works, Madrid, 1791, 8vo. 

31 The ‘‘Cartas del Cavallero de la 
Tenaza” were first printed, I believe, 


in 1627 ; and there is a very good trans- 
lation of them in Band I. of the Maga- 
zin of Bertuch, an active man of letters, 
the friend of Musaéus, Wieland, and 
Goethe, who, by translations, and in 
other ways, did much, between 1769 
and 1790, to promote a love for Span- 
ish literature in Germany. 


Cnap. XIX.] 


FORTUNE NO FOOL. 339 


rounded by the deities of Heaven, calls Fortune to 
account for her gross injustice in the affairs of the 
world; and, having received from her a defence no 
less spirited than amusing, determines to try the ex- 
periment, for a single hour, of apportioning to every 
human being exactly what he deserves. The sub- 
stance of the fiction, therefore, is an exhibition of the 
scenes of intolerable confusion which this single hour 
brings into the affairs of the world; turning a phy- 
siclan instantly into an executioner; marrying a 
match-maker to the ugly phantom she was endeav- 
oring to pass off upon another; and, in the larger 
concerns of nations, like France and Muscovy, intro- 
ducing such violence and uproar, that, at last, by the 
decision of Jupiter and with the consent of all, the 
empire of Fortune is restored, and things are allowed 
to go on as they always had done. Many parts of it 
are written in the gayest spirit, and show a great hap- 
piness of invention ; but, from the absence of much of 
Quevedo’s accustomed bitterness, it may be suspected, 
that, though it was not printed till several years after 
his death, it was probably written before either of his 
imprisonments.™ 

*But what is wanting of severity in this * 289 
whimsical fiction is fully made up in his Vis- 
ions, six in number, some of which seem to have been 


published separately soon 
and all of them in 1635.8 


82 I know of no edition of ‘‘ La For- 
tuna con Seso’” earlier than one I pos- 
sess, printed at Zaragoza, 1650, 12mo ; 
and as N. Antonio declares this satire 
to have been a posthumous work, I 
suppose there is none older. It is there 
said to be translated from the Latin of 
Rifroscrancot Viveque Vasgel Duacense ; 
an imperfect anagram of Quevedo’s own 
name, Francisco Quevedo Villegas. But 


after his first persecution, 
Nothing can well be more 


it must have been written as early as 
1638, because it speaks of Louis XIII. 
as being without hope of issue, and 
Louis XIV. was born in that year. 
83 One of these Suefos is dated as 
early as 1607,—the ‘‘Zahurdas de 
Pluton”; but none, I think, was 
printed earlier than 1627 ; and all the 
six that are certainly by Quevedo were 
first printed together in a small collec- 


340 


VISIONS. [PERIOD it 


free and miscellaneous than their subjects and con- 
tents. One, called “El Alguazil alguazilado,’ or The 
Catchpole Caught, 1s a satire on the inferior officers of 
justice, one of whom being possessed, the demon com- 
plains bitterly of his disgrace in being sent to inhabit 
the body of a creature so infamous. Another, called 
“ Visita de los Chistes,’ A Visit in Jest, is a visit to the 
empire of Death, who comes sweeping in surrounded 
by physicians, surgeons, and especially a great crowd 
of idle talkers and slanderers, and leads them all to a 
sight of the infernal regions, with which Quevedo at 
once declares he is already familiar through the crimes 
and follies to which he has long been accustomed on 
earth. But amore distinct idea of his free and bold 
manner will probably be obtained from the opening of 
his “Dream of Skulls,” or “Dream of the Judgment,” 
than from any enumeration of the subjects and con- 
tents of his Visions; especially since, in this instance, 
it is a specimen of that mixture of the solemn and the 
ludicrous in which he so much delighted. 

*“ Methought I saw,” he says, “a fair youth 
borne with prodigious speed through the heavy- 


* 290 


tion of his satirical works that appeared 
at Barcelona, in 1635, entitled ‘‘ Jugu- 
etes de la Fortuna.” They were trans- 
lated into French by Genest, and print- 
ed in 1641. Into English they were 
very freely rendered by Sir Roger L’ Es- 
trange, and published in 1668 with 
such success, that the tenth edition of 
them was printed at London in 1708, 
8vo, and I believe there was yet one 
more. This is the basis of the transla- 
tions of the Visions found in Quevedo’s 
Works, Edinburgh, 1798, Vol. I., and 
in Roscoe’s Novelists, 1832, Vol. II. 
All the translations I have seen are 
bad. The best is that of L’Estrange, 
or at least the most spirited ; but still 
L’Estrange is not always faithful when 
he knew the meaning, and he is some- 
times unfaithful from ignorance.. In- 


deed, the great popularity of his trans- 
lations was probably owing, in no small 
degree, to the additions he boldly made 
to his text, and the frequent accommo- 
dations he hazarded of its jests to the 
scandal and taste of his times by allu- 
sions entirely English and local. The 
Visions, besides the translation of Ge- 
nest above referred to, were evidently 
in fashion in France still later, for I 
have seen, —(1.) L’algouasil (sic) bur- 
lesque imité de Don F. de Quevedo, 
&c., par le Sieur de Bourneuf P. Paris, 
1657, 8vo, pp. 143; (2.) L’Enfer bur- 
lesque tirée, &c., par M. I. C. Paris, 
1668, 12mo, pp. 81; and (3.) Hor- 
reur des Horreurs sans Horreurs tirée 
des Visions, &c., par Mons. Isaulnay. 
Paris, 1671, 8vo. They are all in 
verse. 


Cuar, XIX.] VISIONS. 341 


ens, who gave a blast to his trumpet so violent, that 
the radiant beauty of his countenance was in part dis- 
figured by it. But the sound was of such power, that 
it found obedience in marble and hearing among the 
dead; for the whole earth began straightway to move, 
and give. free permission to the bones it contained to 
come forth in search of each other. And thereupon 
I presently saw those who had been soldiers and cap- 
tains start fiercely from their graves, thinking it a 
signal for battle; and misers coming forth, full of 
anxiety and alarm, dreading some onslaught; while 
those who were given to vanity and feasting thought, 
from the shrillness of the sound, that it was a call to: 
the dance or the chase. At least, so I interpreted the 
looks of each of them, as they sprang forth; nor did I 
see one, to whose ears the sound of that trumpet came, 
who understood it to be what it really was. Soon, 
however, I noted the way in which certain souls fled 
from their former bodies; some with loathing, and 
others with fear. In one an arm was missing, in an- 
other an eye; and while I was moved to laughter as I 
saw the varieties of their appearance, I was filled with 
wonder at the wise providence which prevented any 
one of them, all shuffled together as they were; from 
putting on the legs or other limbs of his neighbors. 
In one graveyard alone I thought that there was some 
changing of heads, and I saw a notary whose soul did 
not quite suit him, and who wanted to get rid of it by 
declaring it to be none of his. 

“But when it was fairly understood of all that this 
was the Day of Judgment, it was worth seeing how 
the voluptuous tried to avoid having their eyes found 
for them, that they need not bring into court witnesses 
against themselves, — how the malicious tried to avoid 


342 VISIONS. [Preriop II. 


their own tongues, and how robbers and assassins 
seemed willing to wear out their feet in running away 
from their hands. And turning partly round, I saw 
one miser asking another (who, having been embalmed 

and his bowels left at a distance, was waiting 
*291 silently till they should * arrive), whether, be- 

cause the dead were to rise that day, certain 
money-bags of his must also rise. JI should have 
laughed heartily at this, if I had not, on the other side, 
pitied the eagerness with which a great rout of notaries 
rushed by, flying frdm their own ears, In order to avoid 
hearing what awaited them, though none succeeded in 
escaping, except those who in this world had lost their 
ears as thieves, which, owing to the neglect of justice, 
was by no means the majority. But what I most won- 
dered at was, to see the bodies of two or three shop- 
keepers, that had put on their souls wrong side out, 
and crowded all five of their senses under the nails of 
their right hands.” 

The “Casa de los Locos de Amor,” the Lovers’ Mad- 
house, — which is placed among Quevedo’s Visions, 
though it has been declared to be the work of his 
friend Lorenzo Vander Hammen, to whom it is dedi- 
cated, — lacks, no doubt, the freedom and force which 
characterize the Vision of the Judgment.* But this 


vedo. But it is much more likely that 
Quevedo should have countenanced this 
little swpercherie of his friend, than that 


8 The six unquestioned Swefios are 
in Tom. I. of the Madrid edition of 
Quevedo, 1791. The ‘‘Casa de los 


Locos de Amor” is in Tom. II. ; and 
as N. Antonio (Bib. Nov., I. 462, and 
II. 10) says Vander Hammen, a Span- 
ish author of Flemish descent, told him 
that he wrote it himself, we are bound 
to take it from the proper list of Que- 
vedo’s works. This, however, has been 
sometimes thought to be a piece of van- 
ity and falsehood in Vander Hammen, 
because in 1627 he had dedicated sev- 
eral of the Visions—the one in ques- 
tion among the rest — to Francisco 
Ximenez de Urrea, as the works of Que- 


Nicolas Antonio should have been de- 
liberately imposed upon by Vander 
Hammen. Besides, large portions of 
the ‘‘Casa de los Locos de Amor” are 
beneath the talent of Quevedo, and not 
at allin hismanner. Vander Hammen 
was the author of several works now 
forgotten ; but, in his time, he was con- 
nected with men of note. Lope de 
Vega dedicated to him ‘‘ El Bobo del 
Colegio,” in 1620, begging him to pub- 
lish his ‘‘Secretario,” which, however, 
I believe, never was printed. 


9 


Cuar. XIX.] QUEVEDO’S CHARACTER. 343 


is a remark that can by no means be extended to the 
Vision of “Las Zahurdas de Pluton,” Pluto’s Pigsties, 
which is a show of what may be called the rabble of 
Pandemonium ; “ El Mundo por de Dentro,” The World 
Inside Out; and “ El Entremetido, la Duefia, y el So- 
plon,” The Busybody, the Duenna, and the Informer ; 
—all of which are full of the most truculent sarcasm, 
recklessly cast about by one to whom the world had 
not been a friend, nor the world’s law. 

In these Visions, as well as in nearly all that 
Quevedo * wrote, much is to be found that indi- * 292 
cates a bold, original, and independent spirit. 

His age and the circumstances amidst which he was 
placed have, however, left their traces both on his 
poetry and on his prose. Thus, his long residence in 
Italy is seen in his frequent imitations of the Italian 
poets, and once, at least, in the composition of an origi- 
nal Italian sonnet ;* — his cruel sufferings during his 
different persecutions are apparent in the bitterness 
of his invectives everywhere, and especially in one of 
his Visions, dated from his prison, against the adminis- 
tration of justice and the order of society ;—- while 
the influence of the false taste of his times, which, in 
some of its forms, he manfully resisted, is yet no less 
apparent in others, and persecutes him with a per- 
petual desire to be brillant, to say something quaint 
or startling, and to be pointed and epigrammatic. 
But over these, and over all his other defects, his. 
genius from time to time rises, and reveals itself with 
great power. He has not, indeed, that sure perception 
of the ridiculous which leads Cervantes, as if by instinct, 
to the exact measure of satirical retribution; but he 
perceives quickly and strongly; and though he often 


3 Obras, Tom. VII. p. 289. 


o44 


FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO. 


[PERiop If. 


errs, from the exaggeration and coarseness to which he 
so much tended, yet, even in the passages where these 
faults most occur, we often find touches of a solemn 
and tender beauty, that show he had higher powers 
and better qualities than his extraordinary wit, and 
add to the effect of the whole, though without recon- 
ciling us to the broad and gross farce that is too often 


mingled with his satire.® 


86 A violent attack was made on Que- 
vedo, ten years before his death, in a 
volume entitled ‘‘ El tribunal de la 
Justa Venganza,” printed at Valencia, 
1635, 12mo, pp. 294, and said to be 
written by the Licenciado Arnaldo 
Franco-Furt ; a pseudonyme, which is 
supposed to conceal the names of Mon- 
talvan, of Father Niseno, who busied 
himself in getting Quevedo put on the 
Index Expurgatorius, and of other per- 
sons; for such a satirist could not be 
wanting in enemies. The ‘‘ Tribunal” 
is thrown into the form of a trial, before 
regular judges, of the satirical works of 
Quevedo then published ; and, except 
when the religious prejudices of the 
authors prevail over their judgment, 
is not more severe than Quevedo’s 
license merited. . No honor, however, is 
done to his genius or his wit ; and per- 
sonal malice seems apparent in many 
parts of it. At the beginning it is inti- 
mated that it was written at Seville. 


Probably the Jesuits there had a hand 
in it, but, as it is admitted that there 
were several authors, so it is possible 
that it was prepared in different places. 

In 1794, Sancha printed, at Madrid, 
a translation of Anacreon, with notes 
by Quevedo, making 160 pages, but 
not numbering them as a part of the 
eleventh volume, 8vo, of Quevedo’s 
Works, which he completed that year. 
They are more in the terse and classical 
manner of the Bachiller de la Torre than 
the same number of pages anywhere 
among Quevedo’s earlier printed works ; 
but the translation is not very strict, 
and the spirit of the original is not so 
well caught as it is by Estevan Manuel 
de Villegas, whose ‘‘ Erdticas”’ will be 
noticed hereafter. The version of Que- 
vedo is dedicated to the Duke of Ossu- 
na, his patron, Madrid, 1st April, 1609. 
Villegas did not publish till 1617 ; but 
it is not likely that he knew anything 
of the labors of Quevedo. 


—— 


* CHA PT RReex: * 294 


THE DRAMA.—MADRID AND ITS THEATRES.— DAMIAN DE VEGAS. — FRANCIS- 
CO DE TARREGA.—GASPAR DE AGUILAR.—GUILLEN DE CASTRO. — LUIS 
VELEZ DE GUEVARA.—JUAN PEREZ DE MONTALVAN. 


Tue want of a great capital, as a common centre for 
letters and literary men, was long felt in Spain. Until 
the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, the country, 
broken into separate kingdoms, and occupied by con- 
tinual conflicts with a hated enemy, had no leisure for 
the projects that belong to a period of peace; and 
even later, when there was tranquillity at home, the 
foreign wars and engrossing interests of Charles the 
Fifth in Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands led him 
so much abroad, that there was still little tendency to 
settle the rival claims of the great cities; and the 
court resided occasionally in each of them, as it had 
from the time of Saint Ferdinand. But already it was 
plain that the preponderance which for a time had 
been enjoyed by Seville was gone. Castile had pre- 
vailed in this, as it had in the greater contest for giv- 
ing a language to the country; and Madrid, which 
had been a favorite residence of the Emperor, because 
he thought its climate dealt gently with his infirmities, 
began, from 1560, under the arrangements of Philip 
the Second, to be regarded as the real capital of the 
whole monarchy.’ 


1 Quintana, Historia de Madrid, 1630, his capital. Charles, indeed, permitted 
folio, Lib. III. c. 24-26. Cabrera, Madrid in 1544 to take a crown into 
Historia de Felipe, II., Madrid, 1619, its escutcheon, since which time it has 
folio, Lib. V. c. 9; where he says _ been called Villa Imperial y Coronada., 
Charles V. had intended to make Madrid (Origen de Madrid, ec., por Juan Ant. 


346 THE DRAMA.—DAMIAN DE VEGAS. [Penton II. 


*295 *On no department of Spanish literature did 

this circumstance produce so considerable an 
influence as it did on the drama. In 1583, the foun- 
dations for the two regular theatres that have con- 
tinued such ever sinee were already laid; and from 
about 1590, Lope de Vega, if not the absolute mon- 
arch of the stage that Cervantes describes him to have 
been somewhat later, was at least its controlling spirit. 
The natural consequences followed. Under the influ- 
ence of the nobility, who thronged to the royal resi- 
dence, and led by the example of one of the most 
popular writers and men that ever lived, the Spanish 
theatre rose like an exhalation ; and a school of poets 
—many of whom had hastened from Seville, Valencia, 
and other parts of the country, and thus extinguished 
the hopes of an independent drama in the cities they 
deserted — was collected around him in the new cap- 
ital, until the dramatic writers of Madrid became sud- 
denly more numerous, and in many respects more 
remarkable, than any other similar body of poets in 
modern times. 

The period of this transition of the drama is well 
marked by a single provincial play, the “Comedia 
Jacobina,” printed at Toledo in 1590, but written, as 
its author intimates, some years earlier. It was the 
work of Damian de Vegas, an ecclesiastic of that city, 
and is on the subject of the blessing of Jacob by Isaac. 
Its structure is simple, and its action direct and unem- - 
barrassed. As it is religious throughout, it belongs, in 
this respect, to the elder school of the drama; but, on 


Pellicer. Madrid, 4to, 1803, p. 97.) ly Spanish book to show forth the glo- 
But it has always been a favored city. ries of the capital, entitled ‘‘Solo Ma- 
In 1658, Alonso Nufiez de Castro, Gen- drid es Corte.” The display in it of 
eral Chronicler of Spain and author of the wealth of the hierarchy and of some 
several works of consequence to the of the great military orders may well 
national history, published a thorough- be called astounding. 


Cuap. XX.] FRANOISCO DE TARREGA. 347 


the other hand, as it is divided into three acts, has a 
prologue and epilogue, a chorus and much lyrical po- 
etry in various measures, as well as poetry in ¢erza rima 
and blank verse, it is not unlike what was attempted 
about the same time, on the secular stage, by Cer- 
vantes and Argensola. Though uninteresting in its 
plot, and dry and hard in its versification, it is not 
wholly without poetical merit; but we have no proof 
that it ever was acted in Madrid, or, indeed, that 
it was known on the stage * beyond the limits * 296 
of Toledo ; a city to which its author was much 
attached, and where he seems always to have lived? 
Whether Francisco de Tarrega, who can be traced 
from 1591 to 1608, was one of those who early came 
from Valencia to Madrid as writers for the theatre, is 
uncertain. But we have proof that he was a canon of 
the cathedral in the first-named city, and yet was well 
known in the new capital, where his plays were acted 
and printed.’ One of them is important, because it 
shows the modes of representation in his time, as well 
as the peculiarities of his own drama. It begins with 
a doa, which in this case is truly a compliment, as its 
name implies; but it is, at the same time, a witty and 


2 The ‘‘Comedia Jacobina” is found 
in a curious and rare volume of re- 
ligious poetry, entitled ‘‘ Libro de Poe- 
sia, Christiana, Moral, y Divina,” por 
el Doctor Frey Damian de Vegas (To- 
ledo, 1590, 12mo, ff. 503). It contains 
a poem on the Immaculate Conception, 
the turning-point of Spanish orthodoxy ; 
a colloquy between a damsel and a too 
free lover; a colloquy between the Soul, 
the Will, and the Understanding, 
which may have been represented; and 
a great amount of religious poetry, both 
lyric and didactic, much of it in the 
old Spanish measures, and much in the 
Italian, but little of it better than the 
mass of poor verse on such subjects then 
in favor. 

8 It is ascertained that the Canon 


Tarrega lived at Valencia in 1591, and 
wrote eleven or twelve plays, two of 
which are known only by their titles. 
The rest were printed at Madrid in 
1614, and again in 1616. Cervantes 
praises him in the Preface to his Come- 
dias, 1615, among the early followers 
of Lope, for his discrecion é inwmerables 
conceptos. It is evident from the no- 
tice of the ‘‘ Enemiga Favorable,” by 
the wise canon in Don Quixote, that it 
was then regarded as the best of its 
author’s plays, as it has been ever 
since. Rodriguez, Biblioteca Valenti- 
na, Valencia, 1747, folio, p. 146. Xi- 
meno, Escritores de Valencia, Valencia, 
1747, Tom. I. p. 240. Fuster, Biblioteca 
Valentina, Valencia, 1827, folio, Tom. I. 
p- 310. Don Quixote, Parte I. c. 48. 


[Periop II. 


348 FRANCISCO DE TARREGA. 


quaint ballad in praise of ugly women. Then comes 
what is called a “ Dance at Leganitos”’ —a popular 
resort in the suburbs of Madrid, which here gives its 
name to a rude farce founded on a contest in the open 
street between two lackeys.' 
After the audience have thus been put in 
*297 good-humor, * we have the principal play, 
called “The Well-disposed Enemy ” ; a wild, but 
not uninteresting, heroic drama, of which the scene is 
laid at the court of Naples, and the plot turns on the 
jealousy of the Neapolitan king and queen. Some 
attempt is made to compress the action within prob- 
able limits of time and space; but the character of 
Laura — at first in love with the king and exciting 
him to poison the queen, and at last coming out in 
disguise as an armed champion to defend the same 
queen when she is in danger of being put to death 
on a false accusation of infidelity — destroys all regu- 
larity of movement, and is a blemish that extends 
through the whole piece. Parts of it, however, are 
spirited, like the opening,—a scene full of life and 
nature, — where the court rush in from a bull-fight, 
that had been suddenly broken up by the personal 
danger of the king; and parts of it are poetical, like 
the first interview between Laura and Belisardo, whom 
she finally marries.° But the impression left by the 


* This farce, much like an entremes 
or saynete of modern times, is a quarrel 
between two lackeys for a damsel of 
their own condition, which ends with 
one of them being half drowned by the 
other in a public fountain. It winds 
up with a ballad older than itself; for 
it alludes to a street as being about to be 
constructed through Leganitos, while one 
of the personages in the farce speaks of 
the street as already there. The ballad 
seems to be claimed by Salas Barba- 
dillo. At least, I find it among his 


Rimas, (1612, f. 125, b,) and the foun- 
tain is appropriately introduced, for 
Leganitos was famous for it. (See Cer- 
vantes, Ilustre Fregona, and Don Quix- 
ote, Parte II. c. 22, with the note of 
Pellicer.) Such little circumstances 
abound in the popular portions of the 
old Spanish drama, and added much to 
its effect at the time it appeared, and 
especially to its effect when represented. 

5 The ‘‘Enemiga Favorable” is the 
last play in an important volume marked 
as the fifth of the Collection of the 


Cuar. XX.] GASPAR DE AGUILAR. 349 


whole is, that, though the path opened by Lope de 
Vega is the one that is followed, it is followed with 
footsteps ill-assured, and a somewhat uncertain pur- 
pose. 

Gaspar de Aguilar was, as Lope tells us, the rival of 
Tarrega.° He was secretary to the Viscount Chelva, 
and afterwards major-domo to the Duke of Gandia, 
one of the most prominent noblemen at the court of 
Philip the Third. But an allegorical poem, which 
Aguilar wrote,in honor of his last patron’s marriage, 
found so little favor, that its unhappy author, dis- 
couraged and repulsed, died of mortification. 

He lived, *as Tarrega probably did, both in *298 
Valencia and in Madrid, and wrote several 
minor poems, besides one of some length on the 
expulsion of the Moors from Spain, which was printed 
in 1610. The last date we have relating to his un- 
fortunate career is 1623. 

Of the eight or nine plays he published, only two 
can claim our notice. The first is “The Merchant 
Lover,” praised by Cervantes, who, like Lope de 
Vega, mentions Aguilar more than once with respect. 
It is the story of a rich merchant, who pretends to 
have lost his fortune in order to see whether either 
of two ladies to whose favor he aspires loved him for 
his own sake rather than for that of his money ; and he 


‘* Diferentes Comedias,” published at 
Alcala in 1615, at Madrid in 1616, and 
at Barcelona the same year, of which 
Lord Taunton has a copy at Stoke, and 
of which there is another at the Biblio- 
teca Ambrogiana in Milan, both of 
which I have seen. (See Vol. III, 
Appendix F.) The play in question 
is divided into three jornadas, called 
actos, and shows otherwise that it was 
constructed on the model of Lope’s 
dramas. But Tarrega wrote also at 
least one religious play, ‘‘The Foun- 
dation of the Order of Mercy.” It is 


the story of a great robber who becomes 
a great saint, and may have suggested 
to Calderon his ‘‘ Devocion de la Cruz.” 
Six more of his plays may be found in 
the very rare ‘‘ Doze Comedias de qua- 
tro Poetas de Valencia,” 1609, which I 
possess, but they are not so good as the 
“Enemiga Favorable.” I think there 
are twelve of his plays, in all, still 
extant. 

6 **Taurel de Apolo,” (Madrid, 1630, 
4to, f. 21,) where Lope says, speaking 
of Tarrega, ‘‘Gaspar Aguilar competia 
con él en la dramatica poesia.” 


350 GASPAR DE AGUILAR. [Perron II. 


finally marries the one who, on this hard trial, proves 
herself to be disinterested. It is preceded by a pro- 
logo, or loa, which in this case is a mere jesting tale ; 
and it ends with six stanzas, sung for the amusement 
of the audience, about a man who, having tried unsuc- 
cessfully many vocations, and, among the rest, those of 
fencing-master, poet, actor, and tapster, threatens, in 
despair, to enlist for the wars. Neither the beginning 
nor the end, therefore, has anything to do with the 
subject of the play itself, which is written in a spirited 
style, but sometimes shows bad taste and extrava- 
gance, and sometimes runs into conceits. 

One character is happily hit,— that of the lady 
who loses the rich merchant by her selfishness. When 
he first tells her of his pretended loss of fortune, and 
seems to bear it with courage and equanimity, she 
goes out saying, — 


Heaven save me from a husband such as this, 
Who finds himself so easily consoled ! 

Why, he would be as gay, if it were me 

That he had lost, and not his money ! 


And again, in the second act, where she finally rejects 
him, she says, in the same jesting spirit, — 


Would you, sir, see that you are not a man, — 
Since all that ever made you one is gone, — 
* 299 * (The figure that remains availing but 
To bear the empty name that marked you once,) — 
Go and proclaim aloud your loss, my friend, 
And then inquire of your own memory 
What has become of you, and who you are ; 
And you will learn, at once, that you are not 
The man to whom I lately gave my heart.” 


7 Dios me guarde de hombre Haz luego un alarde aqui 
Que tan pronto se consuela, De tu perdida notoria ; 
Que lo mismo hard de mi. Toma cuenta 4 tu memoria; 
Mercader Amante, Jorn. I. Pide 4 ti mismo por ti, 
F Veras que no eres aquel 
Quieres ver que no eres hombre, A quien di mi corazon. 
Pues el ser tuyo has perdido ; 
Y que de aquello que has sido, Tbid., Jorn, II. 


No te queda sino el nombre? 


Cuar. XX.] GASPAR DE AGUILAR. 351 


What, perhaps, is most remarkable about this drama 
is, that the unity of place is observed, and possibly the 
unity of time; a circumstance which shows that the 
freedom of the Spanish stage from such restraints was 
not yet universally acknowledged. 

Quite different from this, however, is “The Unfore- 
seen Fortune”; a play which, if it have only one 
action, has one whose scene is laid at Saragossa, at 
Valencia, and along the road between these two cities, 
while the events it relates fill up several years. The 
hero, just at the moment he is married by proxy in 
Valencia, is accidentally injured in the streets of Sara- 
gossa, and carried into the house of a stranger, where 
he falls in love with the fair sister of the owner, and 
is threatened with instant death by her brother, if 
he does not marry her. He yields to the threat. 
They are married, and set out for Valencia. On the 
way, he confesses his unhappy position to his bride, 
and very coolly proposes to adjust all his difficulties 
by putting her to death. From this, however, he is 
turned aside, and they arrive in Valencia, where she 
serves him, from blind affection, as a voluntary slave ; 
even taking care of a child that is borne to him by his 
Valencian wife. 

Other absurdities follow. At last she is driven to 
declare publicly who she is. Her ungrateful husband 
then attempts to kill her, and thinks he has 
succeeded. *He is arrested for the supposed *300 
murder; but at the same instant her brother 
arrives, and claims his right to single combat with the 
offender. Nobody will serve as the base seducer’s 
second. At the last moment, the injured lady herself, 
presumed till then to be dead, appears in the lists, 
disguised in complete armor, not to protect her guilty 


352 GUILLEN DE CASTRO. [Periop II. 


husband, but to vindicate her own honor and prowess. 
Ferdinand, the king, who presides over the combat, 
interferes, and the strange show ends by her marriage 
to a former lover, who has hardly been seen at all 
on the stage,—a truly “ Unforeseen Fortune,” which 
gives its name to the ill-constructed drama. 

The poetry, though not absolutely good, is better 
than the action. It is generally in flowing quintillas, 
or stanzas of five short lines each, but not without 
long portions in the old ballad-measure. The scene 
of an entertainment on the sea-shore near Valencia, 
where all the parties meet for the first time, is good. 
So are portions of the last act. But, in general, the 
whole play abounds in conceits and puns, and is poor. 
It opens with a doa, whose object is to assert the uni- 
versal empire of man; and it ends with an address to 
the audience from King Ferdinand, in which he de- 
clares that nothing can give him so much pleasure as 
the settlement of all these troubles of the lovers, ex- 
cept the conquest of Granada. Both are grotesquely 
inappropriate.® 

Better known than either of the last authors is 
another Valencian poet, Guillen de Castro, who, like 
them, was respected at home, but sought his fortunes 
in the capital He was born of a noble family, in 
1569, and seems to have been early distinguished, 
in his native city, as a man of letters; for, in 1591, 
he‘svas a member of the Vocturnos, one of the most 
successful of the fantastic associations established 


8 The accounts of Aguilar are found 
in Rodriguez, pp. 148, 149, and in 
Ximeno, Tom. I. p. 255, who, as is 
often the case, has done little but ar- 
range in better order the materials col- 
lected by Rodriguez. Seven of Agui- 
lar’s plays are in collections printed 
at Valencia in 1609 and 1616, min- 


gled with the plays of other poets. A 
copy of the ‘‘Suerte sin Esperanza,” 
which I possess, without date or pa- 
ging, seems older. A copy of his 
‘‘Venganza Honrosa” is to be found 
as the fifth play in Vol. V. of the 
‘“‘Diferentes Comedias,’’ mentioned ante, 
note 5. 


es 


Cuar. XX.] GUILLEN DE CASTRO. Sha 


in Spain, in imitation *of the Acadenuas that * 301 
had been for some time fashionable in Italy. 

His literary tendencies were further cultivated at the 
meetings of this society, where he found among his 
associates Tarrega, Aguilar, and Artieda? 

His life, however, was not wholly devoted to letters. 
At one time, he was a captain of cavalry ; at another, 
he stood in such favor with Benevente, the munificent 
viceroy of Naples, that he had a place of consequence 
intrusted to his government; and at Madrid he was so 
well received, that the Duke of Ossuna gave him an 
annuity of nearly a thousand crowns, to which the 
reigning favorite, the Count Duke Olivares, added a 
royal pension. But his unequal humor, his discon- 
tented spirit, and his hard obstinacy ruined his for- 
tunes, and he was soon obliged to write for a living. 
Cervantes speaks of him, in 1615, as among the pop- 
ular authors for the theatre, and in 1620 he assisted 
Lope at the festival of the canonization of San Isidro, 
wrote several of the pieces that were exhibited, and 
gained one of the prizes. Six years later he was still 
earning a painful subsistence as a dramatic writer ; 
and in 1631 he died so poor, that he was buried by 
charity.” 

Very few of his works have been published, except 
his plays. Of these we have nearly forty, printed be- 


® In the note of Cerda y Rico to the 
**Diana” of Gil Polo, 1802, pp. 515- 
519, is an account of this Academy, 
and a list of its members. Barrera 
says it lasted only from October 4, 
1591, to April 13, 1593, and that 
Aguilar was one of its founders. 

1 Rodriguez, p. 177 ; Ximeno, Tom. 
I. p. 305; Fuster, Tom. I. p. 285. 
The last is important on this subject. 
The portrait of Guillen — together with 
the portraits of Gaspar de Aguilar, Luis 
Vives, Ausias March, Jayme Roig, Fran- 
cisco Tarrega, Francisco de Borja, and 


VOL. II. 23 


other distinguished Valencians — was 
painted for, a gallery in Valencia, by 
Juan de Ribalta, who died in 1628. 
Those of Tarrega, Aguilar, and Guillen 
de Castro are likely to have been origi- 
nals, since these poets were contempo- 
rary with Ribalta, and the whole col- 
lection, consisting of thirty-one heads, 
was extant in the Monastery of La 
Murta de San Geronimo, when Cean 
Bermudez prepared his Dictionary of 
Artists. See Tom. IV., 1800, p. 181. 
They are now, I believe, in possession of 
the Academy of San Carlos at Valencia. 


354 GUILLEN DE CASTRO. [Perron II. 


tween 1614 and 1630. They belong decidedly to the 
school of Lope, between whom and Guillen de Castro 
there was a friendship, which can be traced back, by 
the Dedication of one of Lope’s plays, and by several 
passages in his miscellaneous works, to the period of — 

Lope’s exile to Valencia; while, on the side 
* 302 of Guillen de * Castro, a similar testimony is 

borne to the same kindly regard by a volume 
of his own plays, addressed to Marcela, Lope’s favorite 
daughter. 

The marks of Guillen de Castro’s personal condition, 
and of the age in which he lived and wrote, are no less 
distinct in his dramas than the marks of his poetical 
allegiance. His “Mismatches in Valencia” seems as 
if its story might have been constructed out of facts 
within the poet's own knowledge. It is a series of 
love intrigues, like those in Lope’s plays, and ends 
with the dissolution of two marriages by the influence 
of a lady, who, disguised as a page, lives in the same 
house ,with her lover and his wife, but whose machina- 
tions are at last exposed, and she herself driven to the 
usual resort of entering a convent. His “Don Quix- 
ote,’ on the other hand, is taken from the First Part 
of Cervantes’s romance, then as fresh as any Valencian 
tale. The loves of Dorothea and Fernando, and the 
madness of Cardenio, form the materials for its prin- 
cipal plot, and the dénouement is the transportation of 
the knight, in a cage, to his own house, by the curate 
and barber, just as he is carried home by them in the 
romance ;— parts of the story being slightly altered 
to give it a more dramatic turn, though the language 
of the original fiction is often retained, and the obli- 
gations to it are fully recognized. Both of these 
dramas are written chiefly in the old redondillas, with 


395 


Cnap. XX.] GUILLEN DE CASTRO. 


a careful versification ; but there is little poetical in- 
vention in either of them, and the first act of the 
“Mismatches in Valencia” is disfigured by a game 
of wits, fashionable, no doubt, in society at the time, 
but one that gives occasion, in the play, to nothing 
but a series of poor tricks and puns.” 

* Very unlike them, though no less character- * 303 
istic of the times, is his “ Mercy and Justice ”’ ; 
—the shocking story of a prince of Hungary con- 
demned to death by his father for the most atrocious 
crimes, but rescued from punishment by the multitude, 
because his loyalty has survived the wreck of all his 
other principles, and led him to refuse the throne 
offered to him by rebellion. It is written in a greater 
variety of measures than either of the dramas just 
mentioned, and shows more freedom of style and move- 
ment; relying chiefly for success on the story, and on 
that sense of loyalty which, though originally a great 
virtue in the relations of the Spanish kings and their 
people, was now become so exaggerated, that it was 
undermining much of what was most valuable in the 
national character.” 

“Santa Barbara, or the Mountain Miracle and Heav- 


11 Both these plays are in the first 
volume of his Comedias, printed in 
1614; but I have the Don Quixote in 
a separate pamphlet, without paging or 
date, and with rude woodcuts, such as 
belong to the oldest Spanish publica- 
tions of the sort. The first time Don 
Quixote appears in it, the stage direc- 
tion is, ‘‘ Enter Don Quixote on Rozi- 
nante, dressed as he is described in his 
book.” The redondillas in this drama, 
regarded as mere verses, are excellent ; 
e. g. Cardenio’s lamentations at the end 
of the first act :— 


Donde me llevan los pies 

Sin la vida? El seso pierdo; 
Pero como seré cuerdo 

Si fué traydor el Marques? 


Que cordura, que concierto, 

Tendré yo, si estoy sin mi? 

Sin ser, sin alma y sin ti? 

Ay, Lucinda, que me has muerto! — 
and soon. Guerin de Bouscal, one of 
a considerable number of French dram- 
atists (see Puibusque, Tom. II. p. 441) 
who resorted freely to Spanish sources 
between 1630 and 1650, brought this 
drama of Guillen on the French stage 
in 1638. 

12, It is in the second volume of 
Guillen’s plays; but it is also in the 
**Flor de las Mejores Doce Comedias,” 
etc., Madrid, 1652. Guillen dedicates 
his second volume, which I found in 
the Vatican, by a few affectionate words, 
to his cousin Dofia Ana Figuerola y de 
Castro. 


356 GUILLEN DE CASTRO. (Periop II. . 


en’s Martyr,” belongs, again, to another division of the 
popular drama as settled by Lope de Vega. It is one, 
of those plays where human and Divine love, in tones 
too much resembling each other, are exhibited in their 
strongest lght, and, like the rest of its class, was no 
doubt a result of the severe legislation in relation to 
the theatre at that period, and of the influence of the 
clergy on which that legislation was founded. The 
scene 1s laid in Nicomedia, in the third century, when 
it was still a crime to profess Christianity; and the 
story is that of Saint, Barbara, according to the legend 
that represents her to have been a contemporary of 
Origen, who, in fact, appears on the stage as one of the 
principal personages. At the opening of the drama, 
the heroine declares that she is already, in her heart, 
attached to the new sect; and at the end, she is its 
triumphant martyr, carrying with her, in a pub- 
* 304 lic profession of its faith, * not only her lover, 
but all the leading men of her native city. 

One of the scenes of this play is particularly in the 
spirit and faith of the age when it was written; and 
was afterwards imitated by Calderon in his “ Wonder- 
working Magician.’ The lady is represented as con- 
fined by her father in a tower, where, in solitude, she 
gives herself up to Christian meditations. Suddenly 
the arch-enemy of the human race presents himself 
before her, in the dress of a fashionable Spanish gal- 
lant. He gives an account of his adventures in a fanci- 
ful allegory, but does not so effectually conceal the 
truth that she fails to suspect who he is. In the mean 
time, her father and her lover enter. To her father 
the mysterious gallant is quite invisible, but he is 
plainly seen by the lover, whose jealousy is thus ex- 
cited to the highest degree; and the first act ends 


Cuar. XX.] GUILLEN DE CASTRO’S CID. SOF 


with the confusion and reproaches which such a state 
of things necessarily brings on, and with the persuasion 
of the father that the lover may be fit for a madhouse, ~ 
but would make a very poor husband for his gentle 
daughter.* 

The most important of the plays of Guillen de 
Castro are two which he wrote on the subject of Rod- 
rigo the Cid, — “Las Mocedades del Cid,” The Youth, 
or Youthful Adventures, of the Cid; — both founded 
on the old ballads of the country, which, as we know 
from Santos, as well as in other ways, continued long 
after the time of Castro to be sung in the streets.” 
The first of these two dramas embraces the earlier 
portion of the hero’s life. It opens with a solemn 
scene of his arming as a knight, and with the insult 
immediately afterwards offered to his aged father at 
the royal council-board ; and then goes on with 
the trial of the spirit and * courage of Rodrigo, * 305 
and the death of the proud Count Lozano, who had 
outraged the venerable old man by a blow on the cheek ; 
all according to the traditions in the old chronicles. 
Now, however, comes the dramatic part of the 
action, which was so happily invented by Guillen de 
Castro. Ximena, the daughter of Count Lozano, is 
represented in the drama as already attached to the 
young knight; and a contest, therefore, arises between 
her sense of what she owes to the memory of her father 
and what she may yield to her own affection; a con- 





18 This comedia de santo does not 
appear in the collection of Guillen’s 
plays; but my copy of it (Madrid, 
1729) attributes it to him, and so does 
the Catalogue of Huerta; besides which, 
the internal evidence from its versifica- 
tion and manner is strong for its genu- 
ineness. The passages in which the 
lady speaks of Christ as her lover and 
spouse are, like all such passages in the 


old Spanish drama, offensive to Protes- 
tant ears. 

14 «*] Verdad en el Potro, y el Cid 
Resuscitado,” of Fr. Santos, (Madrid, 
1686, 12mo,) contains (pp. 9, 10, 51, 
106, etc.) ballads on the Cid, as he 
says they were then sung in the streets 
by the blind beggars. The same or 
similar statements are made by Sar: 
miento, nearly a century later. 


308 GUILLEN DE CASTRO’S CID. [Pertop II. 


test that continues through the whole of the play, and 
constitutes its chief interest. She comes, indeed, at 
once to the king, full of a passionate grief, that strug- 
gles with success, for a moment, against the dictates 
of her heart, and claims the punishment of her lover 
according to the ancient laws of the realm. He escapes, 
however, in consequence of the prodigious victories he 
gains over the Moors, who, at the moment when these 
events occurred, were assaulting the city. Subse- 
quently, by the contrivance of false news of the Cid’s 
death, a confession of her love is extorted from her ; 
and at last her full consent to marry him is obtained, 
partly by Divine intimations, and partly by the natural 
progress of her admiration and attachment during a 
series of exploits achieved in her honor and in defence 
of her king and country. 

This drama of Guillen de Castro has become better 
known throughout Europe than any other of his works; 
not only because it is the best of them all, but because 
Corneille, who was his contemporary, made it the basis 
of his own brilliant tragedy of “The Cid”; which did 
more than any other single drama to determine for 
two centuries the character of the theatre all over the 
continent of Europe. But though Corneille — not un- 
mindful of the angry discussions carried on about the 
unities, under the influence of Cardinal Richelieu — 
has made alterations in the action of his play, which 
are fortunate and judicious, still he has relied, for its 
main interest, on that contest between the duties and 
the affections of the heroine which was first imagined 

by Guillen de Castro. 
*306  *Nor has he shown in this exhibition more 
spirit or power than his Spanish predecessor. 
Indeed, sometimes he has fallen into considerable 


Cuar. XX.] GUILLEN DE GASTRO’S CID. 359 


errors, which are wholly his own. By compressing 
the time of the action within twenty-four hours, in- 
stead of suffering it to extend through many months, 
as it does in the original, he is guilty of the absurdity 
of overcoming Ximena’s natural feelings in relation to 
the person who had killed her father, while her father’s 
dead body is still before her eyes. By changing the 
scene of the quarrel, which in Guillen occurs in pres- 
ence of the king, he has made it less grave and natural. 
By a mistake in chronology, he establishes the Spanish 
court at Seville two centuries before that city was 
wrested from the Moors. And by a general straitening 
of the action within the conventional limits which were 
then beginning to bind down the French stage, he 
has, it is true, avoided the extravagance of introducing, 
as Guillen does, so incongruous an episode out of the 
old ballads as the miracle of Saint Lazarus; but he has 
hindered the free and easy movement of the incidents, 
and diminished their general effect. 

Guillen, on the contrary, by taking the traditions of 
his country just as he found them, instantly conciliated 
the good-will of his audience, and at the same time 
imparted the freshness of the old ballad spirit to his 
action, and gave to it throughout a strong national air 
and coloring. Thus, the scene in the royal council, 
where the father of the Cid is struck by the haughty 
Count Lozano, several of the scenes between the Cid 
and Ximena, and several between both of them and 
the king, are managed with great dramatic skill and a 
genuine poetical fervor. 

The following passage, where the Cid’s father is 
waiting for him in the evening twilight at the place 
appointed for their meeting after the duel, is as char- 
acteristic, if not as striking, as any in the drama, and is 


360 


GUILLEN DE CASTRO’S CID. [Perron II. 


superior to the corresponding passage in the French 
play, which occurs in the fifth and sixth scenes of the 


third act. 


* 307 


The Ord. 
The Father. 


The timid ewe bleats not so mournfully 
Its shepherd lost, nor cries the angry lion 


* With such a fierceness for its stolen young, 


As I for Roderic. — My son! my son ! 
Each shade IJ pass, amid the closing night, 
Seems still to wear thy form and mock my arms ! 
O, why, why comes he not? I gave the sign, — 
I marked the spot, — and yet he is not here! 
Has he neglected? Can he disobey ? 
It may not be! A thousand terrors seize me. 
Perhaps some injury or accident 
Has made him turn aside his hastening step ; — 
Perhaps he may be slain, or hurt, or seized. 
The very thought freezes my breaking heart. 
O holy Heaven, how many ways for fear 
Can grief find out !— But hark! What do I hear? 
Is it his footstep? Canit be? O, no! 
I am not worthy such a happiness ! 
’"T is but the echo of my grief I hear. — 
But hark again! Methinks there comes a gallop 
On the flinty stones. He springs from off his steed ! 
Is there such happiness vouchsafed to me ? 
Is it my son ? 
My father ? 

May I truly 
Trust myself, my child? O, am I, am I, then, 
Once more within thine arms! Then let me thus 
Compose myself, that I may honor thee 
As greatly as thou hast deserved. But why 
Hast thou delayed? And yet, since thou art here, 
Why should I weary thee with questioning ?— 
O, bravely hast thou borne thyself, my son ; 
Hast bravely stood the proof; hast vindicated well 
Mine ancient name and strength ; and well hast paid 
The debt of life which thou receivedst from me. 
Come near to me, my son. Touch the white hairs 
Whose honor thou hast saved from infamy, 
And kiss, in love, the cheek whose stain thy valor 
Hath in blood washed out. — My son! my son! 
The pride within my soul is humbled now, 
And bows before the power that has preserved _ 
From shame the race so many kings have owned 
And honored. 


15 Diego. No la ovejuela su pastor perdido, Balo quejosa, ni bramo ofendido, 
Ni el leon que sus hijos le han quitado, Como yo por Rodrigo. Ay, hijo amado! 


Cuar. XX.] GUILLEN DE CASTRO’S CID. 361 


* The Second Part, which gives the adventures * 308 
of the siege of Zamora, the assassination of King 
Sancho beneath its walls, and the defiance and duels 
that were the consequence, is not equal in merit to the 
First Part. Portions of it, such as some of the circum- 
stances attending the death of the king, are quite in- 
capable of dramatic representation, so gross and revolt- 
ing are they; but even here, as well as in the more 
fortunate passages, Guillen has faithfully followed the 
popular belief concerning the heroic age he represents, 
just as it had come down to him, and has thus given 
to his scenes a life and reality that could hardly have 
been given by anything else. 

Indeed,. it is a great charm of this drama, that the 
popular traditions everywhere break through so con- 
stantly, imparting to it their peculiar tone and char- 
acter. Thus, the insult offered to old Laynez in the 
council; the complaints of Ximena to the king on the 
death of her father, and the conduct of the Cid to 
herself; the story of the Leper; the base treason of 
Bellido Dolfos; the reproaches of Queen Urraca from 
the walls of the beleaguered city, and the defiance and 
duels that follow,’*— all are taken from the old bal- 


Voy abrazando sombras descompuesto Te puso mi deseo; y pues veniste, 
Entre la oscura noche que ha cerrado. No he de cansarte pregando el como. 
Dile la sea, y senaléle el puesto, Bravamente probaste ! bien lo hiciste ! 
Donde acudiese, en sucediendo el caso Bien mis pasados brios imitaste ! 

Si me habra sido inobediente en esto? Bien me pagaste el ser que me debiste! 
Pero no puede ser; mil penas paso! Toca las blancas canas que me honraste, 
Algun inconveniente le habri hecho, Liega la tierna boca a la mexilla 
Mudando la opinion, torcer el paso Donde la mancha de mi honor quitaste ! 
Que helada sangre me rebienta el pecho! Soberbia el alma 4 tu valor se humilla, 
Si es muerto, herido, 6 preso? Ay,Cielosanto! Como conservador de la nobleza, 

Y quantas cosas de pesar sospecho! Que ha honrado tantos Reyes en Castilla. 


Que siento? es é1? mas no meresco tanto. 
Sera que corresponden 4 mis males 
Los ecos de mi voz y de mi llanto. 


Mocedades del Cid, Primera Parte, Jorn. I. 


Pero entre aquellos secos pedregales 16 This impeachment of the honor of 
Vuelvo 4 oir el galope de un caballo. the whole city of Zamora, for having 
De €1 se apea Rodrigo! hay dichas tales? harbored the murderer of King Sancho, 
Sale Rodrigo. fills a large place in the ‘‘ Crénica Gen- 
Hijo? Cid. Padre? eral,” (Parte IV.,) in the ‘‘ Crdnica del 
Diego. Es posible que me hallo Cid,” and in the old ballads, and is 
Entre tus brazos? Hijo, aliento tomo called El Reto de Z, f f 
Para en tus alabanzas empleallo. y £Uel0 Ge ZaMOra, — a lorm Oo 


Como tardaste tanto? pues de plomo challenge preserved in this play of Guil- 


362 LUIS VELEZ DE GUEVARA. (Pertop II. 


lads; often in their very words, and generally in their 
fresh spirit and with their picture-like details. The 
effect must have been great on a Castilian audience, 
always sensible to the power of the old popular po- 
etry, and always stirred as with a battle-cry when the 
achievements of their earlier national heroes were re 
called to them.” 

“In his other dramas we find traces of the 
same principles and the same habits of theat- 
rical composition that we have seen in those already 
noticed. The “ Impertinent Curiosity” is taken from 
the tale which Cervantes originally printed in the First 
Part of his Don Quixote. The “ Count Alarcos,” and 
the “ Count d’ Irlos,” are founded on the fine old bal- 
lads that bear these names. And the “ Wonders of 
Babylon”’ is a religious play, in which the story of Su- 
sanna and the Elders fills a space somewhat too large, 
and in which King Nebuchadnezzar is unhappily intro- 
duced eating grass, like the beasts of the field But 
everywhere there is shown a desire to satisfy the de- 
mands of the national taste; and everywhere it is 
plain that Guillen is a follower of Lope de Vega, and 
is distinguished from his rivals rather by the sweetness 
of his versification than by any more prominent or 
original attribute. 

Another of the early followers of Lope de Vega, and 
one recognized as such at the time by Cervantes, is 
Luis Velez de Guevara. He was born at EHcija in 


* 309 


len, and recognized as a legal form so 


indebted to him largely, as we shall see 
far back as the Partida VII., Tit. III., 


hereafter. Lord Holland’s Life of Guil- 


** De los Rieptos.” 

17 The plays of Guillen on the Cid 
have often been reprinted, though hard- 
ly one of his other dramas has been. 
Voltaire, in his Preface to Corneille’s 
Cid, says Corneille took his hints from 
Diamante. But the reverse is the case. 
Diamante wrote after Corneille, and was 


len, already referred to, ante, p. 152, 
note, is interesting, though imperfect. 

18 “*FTas Maravillas de Babilonia” is 
not in Guillen’s collected dramas, and 
is not mentioned by Rodriguez or Fus- 
ter. But it is in a volume entitled 
‘‘ Flor de las Mejores Doce Comedias,” 
Madrid, 1652, 4to. 


Car. XX.] LUIS VELEZ DE GUEVARA. 363 


Andalusia, according to some authorities in 1570, and 
according to others in 1572 or 1574, but seems to have 
lived almost entirely at Madrid, where he died in 
1644, leaving the Conde de Lemos and the Duque de 
Veraguas, a descendant of Columbus, for his executors, 
by whose care he was buried with ceremonies and 
honors becoming their rank rather than his own. 
Twelve years before his death he is said, on good 
authority, to have already written four hundred pieces 
for the theatre; and as neither the public favor nor 
that of the court seems to have deserted him during 
the rest of his long life, we may feel assured that he 
was one of the most successful authors of his time.” 
His plays, however, were never collected for publi- 
cation, and few of them have come down to us. 
One of * those that have been preserved is for- *310 
tunately one of the best, if we are to judge of 
its relative rank by the sensation it produced on its 
first appearance, or by the hold it has since maintained 
on the national regard. Its subject is taken from a 
well-known passage in the history of Sancho the 
Brave, when, in 1293, the city of Tarifa, near Gib- 
raltar, was besieged by that king’s rebellious brother, 
Don John, at the head of a Moorish army, and de- 
fended by Alonso Perez, chief of the great house of 
the Guzmans. “ And,’ says the old Chronicle, “ right 
well did he defend it. But the Infante Don John 
had with him a young son of Alonso Perez, and sent 
and warned him that he must either surrender that 
city, or else he would put to death this child whom he 
had with him. And Don Alonso Perez answered, that 


19 Antonio, Bib. Nov., Tom. II. p. made out. Guevara will be noticed 
68, and Montalvan, Para Todos, in his again as the author of the ‘‘ Diablo Co- 
catalogue of authors who wrote for the juelo.’’ He had a son who wrote plays, 
stage when (in 1682) that catalogue was _ full of cwltismo, and who died in 1675. 


364 | LUIS VELEZ DE GUEVARA. [Perrop II. 


he held that city for the king, and that he could nut 
give it up; but that as for the death of his child, he 
would give him a dagger wherewith to slay him ; and 
so saying, he cast down a dagger from the rampart in 
defiance, and added, that it would be better he should 
kill this son, and yet five others if he had them, than 
that he should himself basely yield up a city of the 
king, his lord, for which he had done homage. - And 
the Infante Don John, in great fury, caused that child 
to be put to death before him. But neither with all 
this could he take the city.” 

Other accounts add to this atrocious story, that, after 
casting down his dagger, Alonso Perez, smothering his 
grief, sat down to his noonday meal with his wife, and 
that, his people on the walls of the city witnessing the 
death of the innocent child, and bursting forth into 
cries of horror and indignation, he rushed out, but, 
having heard what was the cause of the disturbance, 
returned quietly again to the table, saying only, “I 
thought, from their outcry, that the Moors had made 

their way into the city.” | 
“311  * For thus sacrificing his other duties to his 

loyalty, in a way so well fitted to excite the 
imagination of the age in which he lived, Guzman 
received an appropriate addition to his armorial bear- 
ings, still seen in the escutcheon of his family, and the 
surname of “ El Bueno,’ — The Good, or The Faithful, 
—a title rarely forgotten in Spanish history, whenever 
he is mentioned. 

This is the subject, and, in fact, the substance, of 

20 Crénica de D. Sancho el Bravo,  ‘‘ Isabel de Solis,” describing a real or 
Valladolid, 1554, folio, f. 76. an imaginary picture of the death of 

21 Quintana, Vidas de Espafioles Cé- the young Guzman, gives a tender turn 
lebres, Tom. I., Madrid, 1807, 12mo, to the father’s conduct; but the hard 


p. 51, and the corresponding passage in old chronicle is more likely to tell the 
the play. Martinez de la Rosa, in his truth, and the play follows it. 


Cuap. XX.] LUIS VELEZ DE GUEVARA. 365 


Guevara’s play, “Mas pesa el Rey que la Sangre,” or 
King before Kin. A good deal of skill, however, is 
shown in putting it into a dramatic form. Thus, King 
Sancho, at the opening, is represented as treating his 
great vassal, Perez de Guzman, with harshness and 
injustice, in order that the faithful devotion of the 
vassal, at the end of the drama, may be brought out 
with so much the more brilliant effect. And again, the 
scene in which Guzman goes from the king in anger, 
but with perfect submission to the royal authority ; the 
scene between the father and the son, in which they 
mutually sustain each other, by the persuasions of 
duty and honor, to submit to anything rather than 
‘give up the city; and the closing scene, in which, 
after the siege has been abandoned, Guzman offers 
the dead body of his child as a proof of his fidelity 
and obedience to an unjust sovereign, — are worthy 
of a place in the best of the earlier English tragedies, 
and not unlike some passages in Greene and Webster. 
But it was as an expression of boundless loyalty — 
that great virtue of the heroic times of Spain — that 
this drama won universal admiration, and so became 
of consequence, not only in the history of the national 
stage, but as an illustration of the national character. 
Regarded in each of these points of view, it is one of 
the most striking and solemn exhibitions of the mod- 
ern theatre.” 

In most of his other plays, Guevara deviated less 
from the beaten track than he did in this deep 
tragedy. “The * Diana of the Mountains,” for * 312 
instance, 1s a poetical picture of the loyalty, 

22 The copy I use of this play was Gongorism. But a lofty tone runs 
printed in 1745. Like most of the through it, that always found an echo 


other published dramas of Guevara, it in the Spanish character. 
has a good deal of bombast, and some 


366 LUIS VELEZ DE GUEVARA. (Perron II. 


dignity, and passionate force of character of the lower 
classes of the Spanish people, set forth in the person 
of a bold and independent peasant, who marries the 
beauty of his mountain region, but has the misfortune 
immediately afterwards to find her pursued by the 
love of a man of rank, from whose designs she is res- 
cued by the frank and manly appeal of her husband to 
Queen Isabella, the royal mistress of the offender.” 
“The Potter of Ocaiia,” too, which, like the last, is 
an intriguing drama, is quite within the limits of its 
class; — and so is. “ Empire after Death,” a tragedy 
full of a melancholy, idyl-like softness, which well har- 
monizes with the fate of Inez de Castro, on whose sad 
story it is founded. | 

In Guevara’s religious dramas we have, as usual, the 
disturbing element of love adventures, mingled with 
what ought to be most spiritual and most separate 
from the dross of human passion. Thus, in his “ Three 
Divine Prodigies,’ we have the whole history of Saint 
Paul, who yet first appears on the stage as a lover of 
Mary Magdalen ; and in his “Satan’s Court” we have 
a similar history of Jonah, who is announced as a son 
of the widow of Sarepta, and lives at the court of Nin- 
eveh, during the reign of Ninus and Semiramis, in the 
midst of atrocities which it seems impossible could have 
been hinted at before any respectable audience in 
Christendom. 

Once, indeed, Guevara stepped beyond the wide 
privileges granted to the Spanish theatre; but his 
offence was not against the rules of the drama, but 
against the authority of the Inquisition. In “The 
Lawsuit of the Devil against the Curate of Madrile- 


73 The ‘‘ Luna de la Sierra” is the first play in the ‘‘ Flor de las Mejores Doce 
Comedias,” 1652. 


Cuap. XX.] MONTALYVAN. 367 


jos,” which he wrote with Roxas and Mira de Mescua, 
he gives an account of the case of a poor mad girl who 
was treated as a witch, and escaped death only by con- 
fessing that she was full of demons, who are driven out 
of her on the stage, before the audience, by conjura- 
tions and exorcisms. The story has every ap- 
pearance of being founded in fact, and is *cu- * 3513 
rious on account of the strange details it in- 
volves. But the whole subject of witchcraft, its ex- 
hibition and punishment, belonged exclusively to the 
Holy Office. The drama of Guevara was, therefore, 
forbidden to be represented or read, and soon disap- 
peared quietly from public notice. Such cases, how- 
ever, are rare in the history of the Spanish theatre, 
at any period of its existence.” 

The most strict, perhaps, of the followers of Lope de 
Vega was his biographer and eulogist, Juan Perez de 
Montalvan. He was a son of the king’s bookseller at 
Madrid, and was born in 1602.” At the age of seven- 
teen he was already a licentiate in theology and a suc- 
cessful writer for the public stage, and at eighteen he 
contended with the principal poets of the time at the 
festival of San Isidro at Madrid, and gained, with Lope’s 
assent, one of the prizes that were there offered.* 
Soon after this, he took the degree of Doctor in Divin- 
ity, and, like his friend and master, joined a fraternity 
of priests in Madrid, and received an office in the In- 


#4 The plays last mentioned are found 
scattered in different collections, — 
**The Devil’s Lawsuit” being in the 
volume just cited, and ‘‘The Devil’s 
Court” in the twenty-eighth volume of 
the Comedias Escogidas. My copy of 
the ‘“‘Tres Portentos” is a pamphlet 
without date. Fifteen of the plays of 
Guevara are in the collection of Come- 
dias Escogidas, to be noticed hereafter, 
and it is supposed many more can be 
collected. 


25 Alvarez y Baena, Hijos de Madrid, 
Tom. III. p. 157;—a good life of 
Montalvan. But his father must, be- 
fore Lope de Vega’s death, have become 
a priest, for he was Lope’s confessor. 
Obras de Lope, Tom. XX. pp. 16 and 
41. Such changes were not uncom- 
mon. 

26 Lope de Vega, Obras Sueltas, Tom. 
XI. pp. 501, 537, etc., and Tom. XIL 
p. 424. 


368 MONTALYAN. [Periop II. 


quisition. In 1626, a princely merchant of Peru, with 
whom he was in no way connected, and who had never 
even seen him, sent him, from the opposite side of the 
world, a pension as his private chaplain to pray for him 
in Madrid; all out of admiration for his genius and 
writings.” | 
In 1627, he published a small work on “The Life 
and Purgatory of Saint Patrick”; a subject popular 
in his Church, and on which he now wrote, probably, 
to satisfy the demands of his ecclesiastical position. 
But his nature breaks forth, as it were, in spite of 
himself, and he has added to the common 
*314 *legends of Saint Patrick a wild tale, almost 
wholly of his own invention, and yet so inter- 
woven with his principal subject as to seem to be a 
part of it, and even to make equal claims on the faith 
of the reader.” | 
In 1632, he says he had composed thirty-six dramas 
and twelve sacramental autos ;* and in 1636, soon 
after Lope’s death, he published the extravagant pane- 
gyric on him which has been already noticed. This 
was probably the last work he gave to the press; for, 
not long after it appeared, he became hopelessly de- 
ranged, from the excess of his labors, and died on the 
25th ‘of June, 1638, when only thirty-six years old. 
One of his friends showed the same pious care for his 
memory which he had shown for that of his master; 
and, gathering together short poems and other eulo- 
gies on him by above a hundred and fifty of the known 
and unknown authors of his time, published them 


*7 Para Todos, Alcalé, 1661, 4to, p. pared in 1632,) where he speaks also of 
428. a picaresque novela, ‘‘ Vida de Malha- 
*8 It went through several editions as,” and other works, as ready for the 
as a book of devotion, — the last I have press; out they have never been print- 
seen being of 1739, 18mo. See post, ed. The number of dramatic works of 
Chap. XXIT., note. all kinds attributed to him is about 
*? Para Todos, 1661, p. 529, (pre- sixty. 


9 


Cuar. XX.] MONTALVAN. o69 


under the title of “Panegyrical Tears on the Death 
of Doctor Juan Perez de Montalvan ”’ ;—a poor col- 
lection, in which, though we meet the names of An- 
tonio de Solis, Gaspar de Avila, Tirso de Molina, Cal- 
deron, and others of note, we find very few lines worthy 
either of their authors or of their subject.” 
Montalvan’s life was short, but it was brilliant. He 
early attached himself to Lope de Vega with sincere 
affection, and continued to the last the most devoted 
of his admirers; deserving in many ways the title 
given him by Valdivielso, — “ the first-born of Lope de 
Vega’s genius.” Lope, on his side, was sensible to the 
homage thus frankly offered him; and not only assisted 
and encouraged his youthful follower, but received him 
almost as a member of his household and family. It 
has even been said, that the “ Orfeo” — a poem 
on the subject of Orpheus * and Eurydice, which * 315 
Montalvan published in August, 1624, in rival- 
ship with one under the same title published by Jaure- 
gui in the June preceding — was in fact the work of 
Lope himself, who was willing thus to give his disciple 
an advantage over a formidable competitor. But this 
is probably only the scandal of the next succeeding 
generation. The poem itself, which fills about two 
hundred and thirty octave stanzas, though as easy and 
spirited as if it were from Lope’s hand, bears the marks 
rather of a young writer than of an old one; besides 
which, the verses prefixed to it by Lope, and especially 
his extravagant praise of it when afterwards speaking 
of his own drama on the same subject, render the sug- 
gestion that he wrote the work too great an imputa- 





80 «* Lagrimas Panegiricas 4 la Tem- poet of note whom I miss. From the 
prana Muerte del Gran Poeta, etc., J. ‘‘Decimas” of Calderon in this vol- 
Perez de Montalvan,” por Pedro Grande ume, (f. 12,) I infer that Montalvan 
de Tena, Madrid, 1639, 4to, ff. 164. had two attacks of paralysis, and died 
Quevedo, Montalvan’s foe, is the only a very gentle death, 


VOL. IL 24 


370 MONTALVAN. [Pertop II. 


tion on his character." But however this may be, 
Montalvan and Lope were, as we know from different 
passages in their works, constantly together ; and the 
faithful admiration of the disciple was well returned 
by the kindness and patronage of the master. 

Montalvan’s chief success was on the stage, where 
his popularity was so considerable, that the booksellers 
found it for their interest to print under his name many 
plays that were none of his.” He himself prepared 
for publication two complete volumes of his dramatic 
works, which appeared in 1638 and 1639, and were 
reprinted in 1652; but besides this, he had earlier in- 
serted several plays in one of his works of fiction, and 
printed many more in other ways, making in all above 
sixty; the whole of which seem to have been pub- 
lished, as far as they were published by himself, during 
the last seven years of his life.® 

* If we take the first volume of his collection, 
which is more likely to have received his care- 
ful revision than the last, since all the certificates are 
dated 1635, and examine it, as an illustration of his 
theories and style, we shall easily understand the char- 
acter of his drama. Six of the plays contained in it, 
or one half of the whole number, are of the class of 
capa y espada, and rely for their interest on some exht- 
bition of jealousy, or some intrigue involving the point 


* 316 


88 The date of the first volume is 


81 “* Orfeo en Lengua Castellana,” por 
J. P. de Montalvan, Madrid, 1624, 4to. 
N. Ant., Bib. Nov., Tom. I. p. 757, 
and Lope de Vega, Comedias, Tom. 
XX., Madrid, 1629, in the Preface to 
which he says the Orfeo of Montalvan 
“‘contains whatever can contribute to 
its pero 

82 His complaints are as loud as Lope’s 
or Calderon’s, and are to be found in 
the Preface to the first volume of his 
plays, Alcala, 1638, 4to, and in his 
‘* Para Todos,” 1661, p. 169. 


1639 on the title-page, but 1638 at the 
end. A MS. of one of his plays, ‘‘ La 
Deshonra Honrosa,” in the Duke of 
Ossuna’s Library, is dated 1622, when 
Montalvan of course was only twenty 
years old. Schack, Nachtrige, 1854, 
p. 61. He says himself, in the dedica- 
tion of ‘‘Cumplir con su Obligacion,” 
that it was the second play that he 
wrote. In a similar way he pronounces 
his “Doncella de Labor” to be his 
best. 


Cuar. XX.] MONTALVAN. 371 


of honor. They are generally, like the one entitled 
“ Fulfilment of Duty,” unskilfully put together, though 
never uninteresting; and they all contain passages of 
poetical feeling, injured in their effect by other pas- 
sages, in which taste seems to be set at defiance, — 
a remark particularly applicable to the play called 
“ What ’s done can’t be helped.” Four of the remain- 
ing six are historical. One of them is on the suppres- 
sion of the Templars, which Raynouard, referring to 
Montalvan, took as a subject for one of the few suc- 
cessful French tragedies of the first half of the nine- 
teenth century. Another is on Sejanus, not as he is 
represented in Tacitus, but as he appears in the “ Gen- 
eral Chronicle of Spain.” And yet another is on Don 
John of Austria, which has no dénouement, except a 
sketch of Don John’s life given by himself, and making 
out above three hundred lines. A single play of the 
twelve is an extravagant specimen of the dramas writ- 
ten to satisfy the requisitions of the Church, and is 
founded on the legends relating to San Pedro de Al- 
cantara.* 

The last drama in the volume, and the only one that 
has enjoyed a permanent popularity and been acted 
and printed ever since it first appeared, is the one 
called “The Lovers of Teruel.” It is founded on 
a tradition, that, early in the thirteenth century, in 
the city of Teruel, in Aragon, — half-way between 
Saragossa and Valencia, — there lived two _ lovers, 
whose union was prevented by the lady’s family, 
on the ground that the fortune of the cavalier was 
not so considerable as they ought to claim for her. 

8 It should perhaps be added, that contest with the lion to the pulling 
another religious play of Montalvan, down of the Philistine temple, is less 


‘¢]l Divino Nazareno Sanson,” con- offensive. 
taining the history of Samson from the 


372 MONTALVAN. [Prntop II. 
* 317 They, however, gave him a * certain number of 

years. to achieve the position they required of 
any one who aspired to her hand. He accepted the 
offer, and became a soldier. His exploits were bril- 
liant, but were long unnoticed. At last he succeeded, 
and came home in 1217, with fame and fortune. But 
he arrived too late. The lady had been reluctantly 
married to his rival, the very night he reached Teruel. 
Desperate with grief and disappomtment, he followed 
her to the bridal chamber and fell dead at her feet. 
The next day the lady was found, apparently asleep, 
on his bier in the church, when the officiating priests 
came to perform the funeral service. Both had died 
broken-hearted, and both were buried in the same 
orave.” 

A considerable excitement in relation to this story 
having arisen in the youth of Montalvan, he seized the 
tradition on which it was founded, and wrought it into 
a drama. His lovers are placed in the time of Charles 
the Fifth, in order to connect them with that stirring 
period of Spanish history. The first act begins with 
several scenes, in which the difficulties and dangers of 
their situation are made apparent, and Isabella, the 
heroine, expresses an attachment which, after some 


85 J shall have occasion to recur to 
this subject when I notice a long poem 
published on it by Yague de Salas, in 
1616. The story used by Montalvan 
is founded on a tradition already em- 
ployed for the stage, but with an awk- 
ward and somewhat coarse plot, and a 
poor versification by Andres Rey de 
Artieda, in his ‘‘ Amantes,” published 
in 1581, and by Tirso de Molina, in his 
‘*Amantes de Teruel,” 1635. These 
two plays, however, had long been for- 
gotten, when an abstract of the first, 
and the whole of the second, appeared 
in the fifth volume of Aribau’s ‘* Bibli- 
oteca”’ (Madrid, 1848) ; a volume which 
contains thirty-six well-selected plays 
of Tirso de Molina, with valuable prefa- 


tory discussions of his life and works. 
There can be no doubt, from a com- 
parison of the ‘‘ Amantes de Teruel” 
of Tirso with that of Montalvan, printed 
three years later, that Montalvan was 
largely indebted to his predecessor; but 
he has added to his drama much that 
is beautiful, and given to parts of it 
a tone of domestic tenderness that, I 
doubt not, he drew from his own na- 
ture. Aribau, Biblioteca de Autores 
Espafioles, Tom. V. pp. xxxvii and 690. 
The story of the Lovers of Teruel is 
found also in Canto IX. of the poetical 
Romance of Florando de Castilla, 1588, 
by Hieronymo de Huerta. See post, 
Chap. XXVII., note. 


Cuar. XX] MONTALVAN. ra 


anxiety and misgiving, becomes a passion so devoted 
that it seems of itself to intimate their coming sorrows. 
Her father, however, when he learns the truth, con- 
sents to their union; but on condition that, within 
three years, the young man shall place himself in a 
position worthy the claims of such a bride. 

Both of the lovers willingly * submit, and the * 318 
act ends with hopes for their happiness. 

Nearly the whole of the limited period elapses be- 
fore we begin the second act, where we find the hero 
just landing in Africa for the well-known assault on 
the Goleta at Tunis. He has achieved much, but re- 
mains unnoticed and almost broken-hearted with long 
discouragement. At this moment, he saves the Em- 
peror’s life; but the next, he is forgotten again in the 
rushing crowd. Still he perseveres, sternly and hero- 
ically; and, led on by a passion stronger than death, 
is the first to mount the walls of Tunis and enter the 
city. This time, his merit is recognized. Even his 
forgotten achievements are recollected; and he re- 
ceives at once the accumulated reward of all his ser- 
vices and sacrifices. 

But when the last act opens, we see that he is des- 
tined to a fatal disappointment. Isabella, who has 
been artfully persuaded of his death, is preparing, with 
sinister forebodings, to fulfil her promise to her father 
and marry another. The ceremony takes place, — the 
guests are about to depart, — and her lover stands be- 
fore her. A heart-rending explanation ensues, and she 
leaves him, as she thinks, for the last time. But he 
follows her to her apartment; and in the agony of his 
erief falls dead, while he yet expostulates and struggles 
with himself no less than with her. A moment after- 
wards her husband enters. She explains to him the 


374 MONTALVAN. _ [Perrop II. 


scene he witnesses, and, unable any longer to sustain 
the cruel conflict, faints and dies broken-hearted on the 
body of her lover. 

Like nearly all the other pieces of the same class, 
there is much in the “ Lovers of Teruel” to offend us. 
The inevitable part of the comic servant is peculiarly 
unwelcome; and so are the long speeches, and the 
occasionally inflated style. But notwithstanding its 
blemishes, we feel that it is written in the true spirit 
of tragedy. As the story was believed to be authentic 
when it was first acted, it produced the deeper effect ; 
and whether true or not, being a tale of the simple sor- 
rows of two young and loving hearts, whose dark fate 

is the result of no crime on their part, it can 
*319 never be read or acted * without exciting a sin- 

cere interest. Parts of it have a more familiar 
and domestic character than we are accustomed to find 
on the Spanish stage, particularly the scene where 
Isabella sits with her women at her wearisome em- 
broidery, during her lover’s absence; the scene of her 
discouragement and misgiving just before her mar- 
riage; and portions of the scene of horror with which 
the drama closes. 

The two lovers are drawn with no little skill. Our 
interest in them never falters; and their characters are © 
so set forth and developed, that the dreadful catas- 
trophe is no surprise. It comes rather like the fore- 
seen and irresistible fate of the old Greek tragedy, 
whose dark shadow is cast over the whole action from 
its opening. 

When Montalvan took historical subjects, he endeay- 
ored, oftener than his contemporaries, to observe his- 
torical truth. In two dramas on the life of Don Carlos, 
he has introduced that prince substantially in the 


Cnap. XX.] MONTALVAN. 375 


colors he must at last wear, as an ungoverned mad- 
man, dangerous to his family and to the state; and if, 
in obedience to the persuasions of his time, the poet 
has represented Philip the Second as more noble and 
generous than we can regard him to have been, he has 
not failed to seize and exhibit in a striking manner the 
severe wariness and wisdom that were such prominent 
attributes in that monarch’s character.* Don John of 
Austria, too, and Henry the Fourth of France, are 
happily depicted and fairly sustained in the plays in 
which they respectively appear as leading person- 
ages.7” 

* Montalvan’s autos, of which only two or * 320 
three remain to us, are not to be spoken of in 
the same manner. His “ Polyphemus,’ for instance, in 
which the Saviour and a Christian Church are intro- 
duced on one side of the stage, while the principal 
Cyclops himself comes in as an allegorical represen- 
tation of Judaism on the other, is as wild and extrava- 


gant as anything in the Spanish drama. 


86 ** EK) Principe Don Carlos” is the 
first play in the twenty-eighth volume 
of the Comedias Escogidas, 1667, and 
gives an account of the miraculous cure 
of the Prince from an attack of insanity ; 
the other, entitled ‘‘ El Segundo Seneca 
de Espaiia,” is the first play in his 
** Para Todos,” and ends with the mar- 
riage of the king to Anne of Austria, 
and the appointment of Don John as 
generalissimo of the League. The rep- 
resentation of characters and incidents 
in these plays is substantially the same 
that is found in Luis Cabrera de Cor- 
doba’s very courtly ‘‘ Felipe Segundo, 
Rey de Espafia,” which, as it was pub- 
lished in 1619, probably furnished his 
materials to Montalvan, who was not 
pe to wander far for them. See 

ibro V. c. 5; VII. 22; and VIII. 5. 
The work of Cabrera is not very well 
written, though important to the his- 
tory of the time, because he had access 
to excellent sources of information. He 


A. similar 


lived till 1655, but, though he is said 
to have completed his history, and even 
to have once sent the remainder to 
press, no more than the First Part, 
coming down to 1583, has ever been 
published. Ranke’s judgment of Ca- 
brera in a remarkable paper on D. 
Carlos (Jahrb. der Lit. Wien, XLVI. 
1829) is very wise and just. 

87 Don John is in the play that bears 
his name. Henry IV. is in ‘‘ El Ma- 
rescal de Biron,” of which I have a 
separate copy printed in 12mo, at Bar- 
celona, in 1635, preceded by the ‘‘ His- 
toria Tragica de la Vida del Duque de 
Biron,” by Juan Pablo Martyr Rizo, — 
on which the play was to a considerable 
degree founded, although the extrava- 
gant character of Dota Blanca has no 
warrant in history. The life by Rizo 
is an interesting piece of contemporary 
biography, published originally in 1629, 
seven years after the Marshal was exe- 
cuted. 


376 MONTALVAN. {PEriop IT. 


remark may be made on the “ Escanderbech,” founded 
on the history of the halftbarbarous, half-chivalrous 
Iskander Beg, and his conversion to Christianity in the 
middle of the fifteenth century. We find it, in fact, 
difficult, at the present day,.to believe that pieces like 
the first of these, in which Polyphemus plays on a 
guitar, and an tsland in the earliest ages of Greek 
tradition sinks into the sea amidst a discharge of 
squibs and rockets, can have been represented any- 
where.® 
But Montalvan followed Lope mm everything, and, 
like the rest of the dramatic writers of his age, was 
safe from such censure as he would now receive, be- 
cause he wrote to satisfy the demands of the popular 
audiences of Madrid. He made the novela, or tale, 
the chief basis of interest for his drama, and relied 
mainly on the passion of jealousy to give it life and 
movement.” Bowing to the authority of the court, 
he avoided, we are told, representing rebellion on the 
stage, lest he should seem to encourage it; and was 
even unwilling to introduce men of rank in degrading 
_ situations, for fear disloyalty should be implied or im- 
puted. He would gladly, it is added, have re- 
* 321 strained his action to twenty-four * hours, and 
limited each of the three divisions of his full- 
length dramas to three hundred lines, never leaving 
the stage empty in either of them. But such rules 
were not prescribed to him by the popular will, and 
he wrote too freely and too fast to be more anxious 


*8 Both of them are in the fifth day’s the play, entitled ‘‘De un Castigo dos 


entertamments of the ‘‘ Para Todos.” Venganzas,” a play full of horrors, 
89 Preface to ‘‘ Para Todos.” Montalvan declares the plot to be, — 
49 The story of ‘‘ El Zeloso Estre- Historia tan verdadera, 

meno”’ is altered from that of the same Que no ha cineuenta semanas 

name by Cervantes, but is indebted to Paced. 

it largely, and takes the names of sev- Many of his plays are founded on ex- 


eral of its personages. At the end of citing and interesting but familiar tales 


9 


Cuar. XX.] MONTALVAN. ott 


about observing his own theories than his master 
was.*! 

His “ Most Constant Wife,” one of his plays which is 
particularly pleasing, from the firm, yet tender, char- 
acter of the heroine, was written, he tells us, in 
four weeks, prepared by the actors in eight days, and. 
represented again and again, until the great relig- 
ious festival of the spring closed the theatres.” His 
“Double Vengeance,” with all its horrors, was acted 
twenty-one days successively. His “No Life like 
Honor” — one of his more sober efforts — appeared 
many times on both the principal theatres of Madrid at 
the same moment ;— a distinction to which, it is said, 
no other play had then arrived in Spain, and in which 
none succeeded it till long afterwards.* And, in gen- 
eral, during the period when his dramas were pro- 
duced, which was the old age of Lope de Vega, no 
author was heard on the stage with more pleasure than 
Montalvan, except his great master. 

He had, indeed, his trials and troubles, as all have 
whose success depends on popular favor. Quevedo, 
the most unsparing satirist of his time, attacked the 
less fortunate parts of one of his works of fiction with 
a spirit and bitterness all his own; and, on another 
occasion, when one of Montalvan’s plays had been 
hissed, wrote him a letter which professed to be con- 
solatory, but which is really as little so as can well 
be imagined.” But, notwithstanding such occasional 


41 Pellicer de Tobar, in the ‘‘ Lagri- 
mas,” etc., ut supra, gives this account 
of his friend Montalvan’s literary theo- 
ries, pp. 146-152. He says that 
Montalvan, in the more grave parts of 
his plays, employed octavas, canciones, 
and silvas; in the tender parts, décimas, 
glosas, and other similar forms ; and 
romances everywhere ; but that he 
avoided dactyles and blank verse, as 


unbecoming and hard. All this, how- 
ever, is only the system of Lope, in his 
** Arte Nuevo,” a little amplified. 

#2 Para Todos, 1661, p. 508. 

7S L biG.” Teal 68: 

44 C. Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 202. 

#5 Quevedo, Obras, Tom. XI., 1794, 
pp. 125, 163. An indignant answer 
was made to Quevedo, in the ‘‘ Tribu- 
nal de la Justa Venganza,” already no- 


378 


MONTALVAN. 


{Perriop II. 


* 322 discouragements, * his course was, on the whole, 
fortunate, and he is still to be remembered 
among the ornaments of the old national drama of his 


country. 
ticed, The letter attributed here to 
Quevedo is printed in the Don Diego 
de Noche (1623, f. 30) as if it were the 
work of Salas Barbadillo ; but it must 
be Quevedo’s. The feud was an old 
one. Montalvan’s father, who, as we 


have noticed, was a bookseller in Ma- 
drid, reprinted there, without Queve- 
do’s permission, his ‘‘ Politica de Dios,” 
as soon as it had appeared at Saragossa 
in 1626, and Quevedo was very angry 
about it. 


pO hs So. Soe hd ah i * 323 


DRAMA, CONTINUED. —TIRSO DE MOLINA. — MIRA DE MESCUA. — VALDIVIELSO. 
— ANTONIO DE MENDOZA.— RUIZ DE ALARCON.—LUIS DE BELMONTE, AND 
OTHERS. —EL DIABLO PREDICADOR. — OPPOSITION OF LEARNED MEN AND 
OF THE CHURCH TO THE POPULAR DRAMA.-—A LONG STRUGGLE. — TRI- 
UMPH OF THE DRAMA. 


Anotuer of the persons who, at this time, sought 
popular favor on the public stage was Gabriel Tellez, 
an ecclesiastic of rank, better known as Tirso de Mo- 
lina, — the name under which he slightly disguised 
himself when publishing works of a secular character. 
Of his life we know little, except that he was born in 
Madrid; that he was educated at Alcala; that he 
entered the Church as early as 1613; and that he 
died in the convent of Soria, of which he was the head, 
probably in February, 1648;— some accounts repre- 
senting him to have been sixty years old at the time 
of his death, and some seventy-eight or even eighty.) — 

In other respects we know more of him. As a writ- 
er for the theatre, we have five volumes of his dramas, 
published between 1627 and 1636; besides which, a 
considerable number of his plays can be found scat- 
tered through his other works, or printed each by 
itself. His talent seems to have been decidedly dra- 
matic and satirical ; but the moral tone of his plots is 
lower than common, and many of his plays contain 
passages whose indecency has caused them to be so 
hunted down by the confessional and the Inquisition, 


1 Deleytar Aprovechando, Madrid, y Baena, Hijos de Madrid, Tom. II. p. 
1765, 2 tom., 4to, Prdlogo. Alvarez 267. 


380 TIRSO DE MOLINA. [Periop II. 


that copies of them are among the rarest of 
* 324 Spanish books.” Not a * few of the less offen- 
sive, however, have maintained their place on 
the stage, and are still familiar, as popular favorites. 
Of these, the best known out of Spain is “ El Burla- 
dor de Sevilla,” or The Seville Deceiver, — the earliest 
distinct exhibition of that Don Juan who is now seen 
on every stage in Kurope, and known to the lowest 
classes of Germany, Italy, and Spain, in puppet-shows 
and street-ballads. The first rudiments for this char- 
acter — which, it is said, may be traced historically to 
the great Tenorio family of Seville — had, indeed, been 
brought upon the stage by Lope de Vega, in the sec- 
ond and third acts of “ Money makes the Man” ; where 
the hero shows a similar firmness and wit amidst the 
most awful visitations of the unseen world.® But in 
the character as sketched by Lope there is nothing 
revolting. ‘Tirso, therefore, is the first who showed it 
with all its original undaunted courage united to an 
unmingled depravity that asks only for selfish gratifi- 
cations, and a cold, relentless humor that continues to 
jest when surrounded by the terrors of a supernatural 
retribution. 
This conception of the character is picturesque, not- 


2 Of these five volumes, containing 8 There are some details in this part 


fifty-nine plays, and a number of en- 
tremeses and ballads, whose titles are 
given in Aribau’s Biblioteca, (Madrid, 
1848, Tom. V. p. xxxvi,) I have seen 
a complete set only in the Imperial Li- 
brary at Vienna, and have been able 
with difficulty to collect between thirty 
and forty separate plays. 
says, however, in the Preface to his ‘‘Ci- 
garrales de Toledo, (1624,) that he had 
written three hundred ; and I believe 
about eighty have been printed. There 
is an autograph play of his in the Duke 
of Ossuna’s Library, dated Toledo, 30th 
May, 1613, and his ‘‘No peor Sordo” 
is believed to have been written in 1596. 


Their author _ 


of Lope’s play, such as the mention of 
a walking stone statue, which leave no 
doubt in my mind that Tirso de Molina 
used it. Lope’s play is in the twenty- 
fourth volume of his Comedias (Zara- 
goza, 1633); but it is one of his dramas 
that have continued to be reprinted and 
read. There is an excellent transla- 
tion of Tirso’s ‘‘ Burlador de Sevilla” 
in the measures of the original, by 
C. A. Dohrn, in his ‘‘Spanische Dra- 
men,” Band I., 1841, and another 
by Braunfels, in his ‘‘Dramen nach 
dem Spanischen,” Frankfort, 1856, 
Tom. I 


Cuar. XXI.J TIRSO DE MOLINA. 881 


withstanding the moral atrocities it involves. It was, 
therefore, soon carried to Naples, and from Naples to 
Paris, where the Italian actors took possession of it. 
The piece thus produced, which was little more than 
an Italian translation of Tirso’s, had great success in 
1656 on the boards of that company, then very fash- 
ionable at the French court. Two or three French 
translations followed, and in 1665 Moliére 
brought out his “ Festin de * Pierre,’ in which, * 325 
taking not only the incidents of Tirso, but often 
his dialogue, he made the real Spanish fiction known 
to Europe as it had not been known before.* From 
this time the strange and wild character conceived by 
the Spanish poet has gone through the world under 
the name of Don Juan, followed by a reluctant and 
shuddering interest, that at once marks what 1s most 
peculiar in its conception, and confounds all theories 
of dramatic interest. Zamora, a writer of the next 
half-century in Spain, Thomas Corneille in France, and 
Lord Byron in England, are the prominent poets to 
whom it is most indebted for its fame ; though perhaps 
the genius of Mozart has done more than any or all of 
them to reconcile the refined and elegant to its dark 
and disgusting horrors.° 

At home, “ The Deceiver of Seville” has never been 
the most favored of Tirso de Molina’s works. That 


* For the way in which this truly 
Spanish fiction was spread through Ita- 
ly to France, and then, by means of 
Moliére, throughout the rest of Europe, 
see Parfaits, ‘‘ Histoire du Théatre 
Francais” (Paris, 12mo, Tom. VIII., 
1746, p. 255; Tom. IX., 1746, pp. 3 
and 343; and Tom. X., 1747, p. 420); 
and Cailhava, ‘‘Art de la Comédie” 
(Paris, 1786, 8vo, Tom. II. p. 175). 
Shadwell’s ‘‘ Libertine” (1676) is sub- 
stantially the same story, with added 
atrocities ; and, if I mistake not, is the 
foundation of the short drama which 


has often been acted on the American 
stage. Shadwell’s own play is too gross 
to be tolerated anywhere nowadays, and 
besides has no literary merit. 

5 That the popularity of the mere 
fiction of Don Juan has been preserved 
in Spain may be seen from the many 
recent versions of it; and especially 
from the two plays of ‘* Don Juan Te- 
norio” by Zorrilla, (1844,) and his two 
poems, ‘‘El Desafio del Diablo,” and 
‘*Un Testigo de Bronce,” (1845,) hardly 
less dramatic than the plays that had 
preceded them. 


382 TIRSO DE MOLINA. [Periop II. 


distinction belongs to “Don Gil in the Green Pan- 
taloons,’ perhaps the most strongly marked of the 
successful intriguing comedies in the language. Dojia 
Juana, its heroine, a lady of Valladolid, who has 
been shamefully deserted by her lover, follows him to 
Madrid, whither he had gone to arrange for himself a 
more ambitious match. In Madrid, during the fort- 
night the action lasts, she appears sometimes as a lady 
named Elvira, and sometimes as a cavalier named Don 
Gil; but never once, till the last moment, in her own 
proper person. In these two assumed characters, she 
confounds all the plans and plots of her faithless lover ; 

makes his new mistress fall in love with her ; 
*326 *writes letters to herself, as a cavalier, from 

herself, as a lady ; and passes herself off, some- 
times for her own lover, and sometimes for other per- 
sonages merely imaginary. 

Her family at Vallddolid, meantime, are made to 
believe she is dead; and two cavaliers appearing in 
Madrid, the one from design and the other by acci- 
dent, in a green dress like the one she wears, all three 
are taken to be one and the same individual, and the 
confusion becomes so unintelligible, that her alarmed 
lover and her own man-servant — the last of whom 
had never seen her but in masculine attire at Madrid 
—are persuaded it is some spirit come among them in 
the fated green costume, to work out a dire revenge 
for the wrongs it had suffered in the flesh. At this 
moment, when the uproar and alarm are at their 
height, the relations of the parties are detected, and 
three matches are made instead of the one that had 
been broken off;—the servant, who had been most 
frightened, coming in at the instant everything is set- 
tled, with his hat stuck full of tapers and his clothes 


Cuar. XXI.] TIRSO DE MOLINA. 383 


covered with pictures of saints, and crying out, as he 
scatters holy water in everybody’s face : — 
Who prays, who prays for my master’s poor soul, — 
His soul now suffering purgatory’s pains 
Within those selfsame pantaloons of green ? 
And when his mistress turns suddenly round and asks 
him if he is mad, the servant, terror-struck at seeing a 
lady, instead of a cavalier, with the countenance and 
voice he at once recognizes, exclaims in horror : — 
I do conjure thee by the wounds — of all 
Who suffer in the hospital’s worst ward, — 
Abrenuntio !— Get thee behind me ! 
Juana. Fool! Don’t you see that I am your Don Gil, 
Alive in body, and in mind most sound ? — 
That I am talking here with all these friends, 
And none is frightened but your foolish self ? 
Servant. Well, then, what are you, sir, — a man or woman ? 
Just tell me that. 
Juana. . A woman, to be sure. 
Servant. No more! enough! That word explains the whole ; — 


Ay, and if thirty worlds were going mad, 
It would be reason good for all the uproar. 


*The chief characteristic of this play is its * 327 
extremely ingenious and involved plot. Few 
foreigners, perhaps not one, ever comprehended all its 
intrigue on first reading it, or on first seeing it acted. 
Yet it has always been one of the most popular plays 
on the Spanish stage; and the commonest and most 
ignorant in the audiences of the great cities of Spain 
do not find its ingenuities and involutions otherwise 
than diverting. 

Quite different from either of the preceding dramas, 
and in some respects better than either, is Tirso’s 
“Bashful Man at Court,” —a play often acted, on its 
first appearance, in Italy, as well as in Spain, and one 
in which, as its author tells us, a prince of Castile once 
performed the part of the hero. It is not properly 


384 TIRSO DE MOLINA. [Pertop II. 


historical, though partly founded on the story of Pedro, 
Duke of Coimbra, who, in 1449, after having been 
regent of Portugal, was finally despoiled of his power 
and defeated in an open rebellion. Tirso supposes 
him to have retired to the mountains, and there, dis- 
guised as a shepherd, to have educated a son in com- 
plete ignorance of his rank. This son, under the name 
of Mireno, is the hero of the piece. Finding himself 
possessed of nobler sentiments and higher intelligence 
than those of the rustics among whom he lives, he half 
suspects that he 1s of noble origin; and, escaping from 
his solitude, appears at court, determined to try his 
fortune. Accident helps him. He enters the service 
of the royal favorite, and wins the love of his daughter, 
who is as free and bold, from an excessive knowledge 
of the world, as her lover is humble and gentle in his 
ignorance of it. ‘There his rank is discovered, and the 
play ends happily. 

A story like this, even with the usual accompaniment 
of an underplot, is too slight and simple to produce 
much effect. But the character of the principal per- 
sonage, and its gradual development, rendered it 
long a favorite on the Spanish stage. Nor was this 
preference unreasonable. His noble pride, struggling 

against the humble circumstances in which he 
* 328 finds himself placed; the suspicion * he hardly 

dares to indulge, that his real rank is equal to 
his aspirations, — a suspicion which yet governs his 
life; and the modesty which tempers the most am- 
bitious of his thoughts, form, when taken together, one 
of the most lofty and beautiful ideals of the old Cas- 
tilian character.’ 


6 Crénica de D, Juan el Segundo, ad __ printed as early as 1624, in the ‘‘ Cigar- 
n. rales de Toledo,” (Madrid, 1624, 4to, 
7 The ‘* Vergonzoso en Palacio” was p. 100,) and took its name, I suppose, 


Onar. XXI.] TIRSO DE MOLINA. 385 


Some of Tirso’s secular dramas deal chiefly in recent 
events and well-settled history, like his trilogy on the 
achievements of the Pizarros in the New World, and 
their love-adventures at home. Others are founded on 
facts, but with a larger admixture of fiction, like the 
one on the election and pontificate of Sixtus Quintus. 
But his religious dramas and autos are as extravagant 
as those of the other poets of his time, and could 
hardly be more so. 

His mode of treating his subjects seems to be capri- 
cious. Sometimes he begins his dramas with great 
naturalness and life, as in one that opens with the 
accidents of a bull-fight,® and in another, with the con- 
fusion consequent on the upsetting of a coach ;° while, 
at other times, he seems not to care how tedious he is, 
and once breaks ground in the first act with a speech 
above four hundred lines long.” Perhaps the most 
characteristic of his openings is in his “Love for 
Reasons of State,’ where we have, at the outset, a 
scene before a lady’s balcony, a rope-ladder, and a duel, 
all full of Castilian spirit. His more obvious defects 
are the too great similarity of his characters and inci- 
dents; the too frequent introduction of disguised ladies 
to help on the intrigue; and the needless and shame- 
less indelicacy of some of his stories,—a fault ren- 
dered more remarkable by the circumstance, that he 
himself was an ecclesiastic of rank, and honored in 
Madrid as a public preacher. His more uniform merits 
are an invention which seems never to tire or to 
become exhausted; a most happy power of gay 
narration; an extraordinary command of his native 


from a Spanish proverb, ‘‘Mozo ver- 8 «Ta Lealtad contra la Envidia.” 
gonzoso no es para palacio,” — ‘* At 9 **Por el Sotano y el Torno.” 
court in truth a bashful youth can find 10 «* Hscarmientos para Cuerdos.” 


no place at all.” 
VOL. II. 25 


386 


MIRA DE MESCUA. [Prriop II. 
* 329 * Castilian; and a rich and flowing versification 

in all the many varieties of metre demanded by 
the audiences of the capital, who were become more 
nice and exacting in this, perhaps, than in any other 
single accessory of the drama. 

But however various and capricious were the forms 
of Tirso’s drama, he was, in substance, always a fol- 
lower of Lope de Vega, and one who succeeded in vin- 
dicating for himselfa place very near his great master. 
That he was of the school of Lope, he himself dis- 
tinctly announces, boasting of it, and entering, at the 
same time, into an ingenious and elaborate defence of 
its principles and practice, as opposed to those of the 
classical school; a defence which, it is worthy of notice, 
was published twelve years before the appearance of 
Corneille’s “ Cid,” and which, therefore, to a consider- 
able extent, anticipated in Madrid the remarkable con- 
troversy about the unities occasioned by that tragedy 
in Paris after 1636," and subsequently made the foun- 
dation of the dramatic schools of Corneille, Racine, and 
Voltaire. 

Contemporary with these events and discussions lived 
Antonio Mira de Mescua, well known from 1602 to 1635 


11 Cigarrales de Toledo, 1624, pp. 
183-188. In 1631, there was pub- 
lished at Milan a small volume in 
12mo, entitled ‘‘ Favores de las Musas 
hechas a D. Sebastian Francisco de Me- 
drano en varias Rimas y Poesias que 
compus6 en la mas celebre Académia de 
Madrid, donde fué Presidente meritis-< 
simo.” It was edited by Alonso de Cas- 
tillo Solorzano, the well-known writer 
of tales, and contains a little bad lyri- 
cal poetry, and three plays not much 
better. The author, I suppose, is not 
the same with Francisco de Medrano, 


to be noticed hereafter among the lyri-* 
etal poets, and I should hardly mention © 
the present volume, if it were not that - 


one of its plays, — ‘‘ El Luzero Eclip- 
sado,’—on the subject of John the 


Baptist, —is divided into five acts, has 
a chorus, and is confined in its action 
within the limits of twenty-four hours ; 
— ‘para que se vea,” says the editor, 
**que ay en Espafa quien lo sabe hacer 
con todo primor.” ‘This was five years 
before the date of Corneille’s Cid. The 
volume in question was to have been 
followed by others, but none appeared, 
though its author did not die till 
1653. 

I cannot help adding that a great 
deal more has been said about the 
‘*unities” as peculiar to the French 
school in modern times than belongs to 
the case. It seems to me from the five 
choruses in Henry V. that Shakespeare 
understood the whole matter as well as 


“€ardinal Richelieu did. 


Cuap. XXI.] MIRA DE MESCUA. 387 


as a writer for the stage, and much praised by Cervan- 
tes and Lope de Vega. He was a native of Guadix in 
the kingdom of Granada, and in his youth became arch- 
deacon of its cathedral; but in 1610 he was at Naples, 
attached to the poetical court of the Count de Lemos, 
and in 1620 he gained a prize in Madrid, where he died 
in 1635 while in the office of chaplain to Philip 

the * Fourth. He wrote secular plays, autos, * 330 
and lyrical poetry; but his works were never 
collected and are now found with difficulty, though not 
a few of his lighter compositions are in nearly all the 
respectable selections of the national poetry from his 
own time to the present. His manner was very un- 
equal. 

He, like Tirso de Molina, was an ecclesiastic of rank, 
but did not escape the troubles common to writers for 
the stage. One of his dramas, “The Unfortunate Ra- 
chel,” founded on the fable which represents Alfonso 
the Eighth as having nearly sacrificed his crown to his 
passion for a Jewess of Toledo, was much altered, by 
authority, before it could be acted, though Lope de 
Vega had been permitted to treat the same subject at 
large in the same way, in the nineteenth book of his 
“Jerusalem Conquered.” Mira de Mescua, too, was 
concerned in the drama of “The Curate of Madrilejos,” 
which, as we have seen, was forbidden to be read or 
acted even after it had been printed. Still, there is no 
reason to suppose he did not enjoy the consideration 
usually granted to successful writers for the theatre. 
At least, we know he was much imitated. His “Slave 
of the Devil” was not only remodelled and reproduced 
by Moreto in “ Fall to rise again,” but was freely used 
by Calderon in two of his best-known dramas. His 
“Gallant both Brave and True” was employed by 


388 VALDIVIELSO. [Perron II. 


Alarcon in “The Trial of Husbands.” And his “ Palace 
in Confusion” is the groundwork of Corneille’s “ Don 
Sancho of Aragon.’ ” 

*Joseph de Valdivielso, another ecclesiasiic 
of high condition, was also a writer for the stage 
at the same time. He was connected with the great 
cathedral of ‘Toledo, and with its princely primate, the 
Cardinal Infante. But he lived in Madrid, where he 
was a member of the same religious congregation with 
Cervantes and Lope, and where he was intimately asso- 
ciated with the principal men of letters of his time. 
He flourished from about 1607 to about 1633, and can 
be traced, during the whole of that period, by his cer- 
tificates of approbation, and by commendatory verses 
which were prefixed to the works of his friends as they 
successively appeared. His own publications are al- 
most entirely religious ;— those for the stage consist- 
ing of a single volume printed in 1622, and containing 
twelve autos and two religious plays. 

The twelve autos seem, from internal evidence, to 
have been written for the city of Toledo, and certainly 
to have been performed there, as well as in other cities 
of Spain. He selected them from a large number, and 


* 331 


12 The notices of Mira de Mescua, or 
Amescua, as he is sometimes called, are 
scattered like his works. He is men- 
tioned in Roxas, ‘‘ Viage” (1602); and 
I have his ‘‘ Desgraciada Raquel,” 
both in a printed copy, where it is at- 
tributed to Diamante, and in an auto- 
graph MS., where it is sadly cut up to 
suit the ecclesiastical censors, whose 
permission to represent it is dated 
April 10, 1635. Guevara indicates 
his birthplace and ecclesiastical office 
in the ‘‘ Diablo Cojuelo,” Tranco VI. 
Antonio (Bib. Nov., ad verb.) gives 
him extravagant praise, and says that 
his dramas were collected and published 
together. But this, I believe, is a mis- 
take. Like his shorter poems, they 


can be found only separate, or in col- 
lections made for other purposes. See, 
also, in relation to Mira de Mescua, 
Montalvan, ‘‘ Para Todos,” the Cata- 
logue at the end; and Pellicer, Bibli- 
oteca, Tom. I. p. 89. The story on 
which the ‘‘ Raquel” is founded is a 
fiction, and therefore need not so much 
have disturbed the censors of the thea- 
tre. (Castro, Cronica de Sancho el 
Deseado, Alonso el Octavo, etc., Ma- 
drid, 1665, folio, pp. 90, ete.) Two 
autos by Mira de Mescua are to be 
found in ‘‘ Navidad y Corpus Christi 
Festejados,” Madrid, 1664, 4to, and a 
few of his miscellaneous poems in Ri- 
i eat Biblioteca, Tom. XLIL, 
1857. 


Cuap. XXI.] VALDIVIELSO. 389 


they undoubtedly enjoyed, during his lifetime, a wide 
popularity. Some, perhaps, deserved it. “The Prodi- 
gal Son,” long a tempting subject wherever religious 
dramas were known, was treated with more than 
usual skill. “Psyche and Cupid,” too, is better man- 
aged for Christian purposes than that mystical fancy 
commonly was by the poets of the Spanish theatre. 
And “The Tree of Life” is a well-sustained allegory, 
in which the old theological contest between Divine 
Justice and Divine Mercy is carried through in the old 
theological spirit, beginning with scenes in Paradise 
and ending with the appearance of the Saviour. But, 
in general, the autos of Valdivielso are not better than 
those of his contemporaries. 

His two plays are not so good. “The Birth of the 
Best,” as the Madonna is often technically called, and 
“The Guardian Angel,” which is, again, an allegory, 
not unlike that of “‘ The Tree of Life,’ are both of 
them crude and wild compositions, even within the 
broad limits permitted to the religious drama. 

One *reason of their success may perhaps be * 332 
found in the fact, that they have more of the 

tone of the elder poetry than almost any of the sacred 
plays of the time ;—a remark that may be extended 
to the autos of Valdivielso, in one of which there is a 
spirited parody of the well-known ballad on the chal- 
lenge of Zamora after the murder of Sancho the Brave. 
But the social position of their author, and perhaps his 
quibbles and quaintnesses, which humored the bad 
taste of his age, must be taken into consideration be- 
fore we can account for the extensive popularity he 
undoubtedly enjoyed.” 


18 Antonio, Bib. Nova, Tom. I. p. sess are ‘‘Doce Autos Sacramentales y 
821. His dramatic works which I pos- dos Comedias Divinas,” por el Maestro 


390 ANTONIO DE MENDOZA. [Periop II. 


Another sort of favor fell to the share of Antonio de 
Mendoza, who wrote much for the court between 1623 
and 1643, and died in 1644. His Works — besides a 
number of ballads and short poems addressed to the 
Duke of Lerma and other principal persons of the 
kingdom — contain a Life of Our Lady, in nearly eight 
hundred redondillas, and five’ plays, to which several 
more may be added from different miscellaneous collec- 
tions. The poems are of little value; the plays are 
better. “He Deserves Most who Loves Most” may 
have contributed materials to Moreto’s “ Disdain met 
with Disdain,” and is certainly a pleasant drama, with 
natural situations and an easy dialogue. “‘ Society 
changes Manners” is another real comedy with much 
life and gayety. And “Love for Love’s Sake,” which 
has been called its author’s happiest effort, but which 
is immensely long and abounds in instances of bad 
taste, enjoyed the distinction of being acted before the 
court by the queen’s maids of honor, who took all the 
parts, — those of the cavaliers, as well as those of the 
women.” 


Joseph de Valdivielso, Toledo, 1622, 
4to, 183 leaves. Compare the old bal- 
lad, ‘* Ya cabalga Diego Ordofiez,” which 
can be traced to the Romancero of 1550- 
1555, with the ‘‘Crdénica del Cid,” c. 66, 
and the ‘*Cautivos Libres,” f. 25, a, of 
the Doce Autos. It will show how the 
old ballads rang in the ears of all men, 
and penetrated everywhere into Spanish 
poetry. There is a nacimiento of Val- 
divielso in the ‘‘ Navidad y Corpus 
Christi,” mentioned in the preceding 
note; but it is very slight and poor. 
Montalvan, who is a good authority, 
says in the dedication of his ‘‘Amantes 
de Teruel,” that as a writer of awtos 
Valdivielso was the first of his time. 
This was about 1636, and therefore be- 
‘fore Calderon’s great success. 

14 | have a copy of his ‘‘ Vida de 
Nuestra Sefiora,” published by his 
snephew in 1652, but his works were 


not collected till long after his death, 
and were then printed from a manu- 
script found in the library of the Arch- 
bishop of Lisbon, Luis de Souza, under 
the affected title, ‘‘ El Fenix Castellano, 
D. Antonio de Mendoza, renascido,” 
etc., an excessively rare book, contain- 
ing the five ‘‘comedias”” and other 
works (Lisboa, 1690, 4to). The only 
notices of consequence that I find of 
him are in Montalvan’s ‘‘ Para Todos,” 
and in Antonio, Bib. Nova. A second 
edition of his works, with trifling ad- 
ditions, appeared at Madrid in 1728, 
4to. ‘*Querer por solo querer,” which 
was acted at Aranjuez for the fiesta of 
Philip IV. in 1628, was translated, in 
light verse, by Sir Richard Fanshawe, 
who was sent as ambassador to Madrid 
by both Charles I. and Charles II., and 
died there in 1666. His version, like 
an uncommonly large proportion of the 


Cnar. XXI.] RUIZ DE ALARCON. 


* Ruiz de Alarcon, who was his contemporary, 
was less favored during his lifetime than Men- 
doza, but has much more merit. He was born at 
Tasco, in Mexico, but was descended from a family 
that belonged to Alarcon in the mother country. As 
early as 1622 he was in Madrid, and assisted in the 
composition of a poor play in honor of the Marquis of 
Cafiete for his victories in Arauco, which was the joint 
work of nine persons. In 1628, he published the first 
volume of his Dramas, on the title-page of which he 
calls himself Prolocutor of the Royal Council for the 
Indies; a place both of trust and profit. It is. dedi- 
cated to the Duke of Medina de las Torres, but it con- 
tains also an address to the Pubhco Vulgar, or the Rab- 
ble, in a tone of savage contempt for the audiences of 
Madrid, which, if it intimates that he had been ill- 
treated on the stage, proves also that he felt strong 
enough to defy his enemies. To the eight plays con- 
tained in this volume he added twelve more in 1635, 
with a Preface, which, again, leaves little doubt that 
his merit was undervalued, as he says he found it difh- 
cult to vindicate for himself even the authorship of 
not a few of the plays he had written. He died in 
1639. 


original play, is rhymed, and is among 
the very curious and rare books in the 
English language. It is cited in the 
preface to Lady Fanshawe’s Memoirs, 
as if published in 1671, but my copy is 
dated 1670. At the end is an account, 
also translated from Mendoza, of a series 
of magnificent allegorical festivities the 
preceding year at Aranjuez, evidently 
very brilliant, and described in the very 
spirit of a fantastic Castilian courtier. 
Notices of Mendoza’s honors may be 
found in Schack’s Nachtrage, p. 92. 
He was one of the Royal Secretaries, 
but what was of vastly more conse- 
quence, he was Secretary of the Inqui- 
sition. Montalvan, when dedicating to 


him ‘‘La Toquera Vizcayna,” says neat- 
ly, that he does it on condition that 
Mendoza shall forget his own dramas. 
15 Alarcon seems, in consequence of 
these remonstrances, or perhaps in con- 
sequence of the temper in which they 
were made, to have drawn upon him- 
self a series of attacks from the poets 
of the time, Gongora, Lope de Vega, 
Mendoza, Montalvan, and others, some 
of whom stoop so low as to ridicule him 
for an unhappy deformity of his person. 
See Puibusque, Histoire Comparée des 
Littératures Espagnole et Francaise, 2 
tom., 8vo, Paris, 1843, Tom. II. pp. 
155 —164, and 430 - 437 ; — a book writ- 
ten with much taste and knowledge of 


392 RUIZ DE ALARCON. [Perron IL. 


*334  * His “Domingode Don Blas,’ one of the few 

among his works not found in the collection 
printed by himself, is a sketch of the character of a 
gentleman sunk into luxury and effeminacy by the 
possession of a large fortune suddenly won from the 
Moors in the time of Alfonso the Third of Leon; but 
who, at the call of duty, rouses himself again to his 
earlier energy, and shows the old Castilian character 
in all its loyalty and generosity. The scene where he 
refuses to risk his person in a bull-fight, merely to 
amuse the Infante, is full of humor, and is finely con- 
trasted, first, with the scene where he runs all risks in 
defence of the same prince, and afterwards, still more 
finely, with that where he sacrifices the prince, because 
he had failed in loyalty to his father. 

“ How to gain Friends” gives us another exhibition 
of the principle of loyalty in the time of Peter the 
Cruel, who is here represented only as a severe, but 
just, administrator of the law in seasons of great trou- 
ble. His minister and favorite, Pedro de Luna, is one 
of the most noble characters offered to us in the whole 
range of the Spanish drama ;— a character belonging 
to a class in which Alarcon has several times suc- 
ceeded. 

A better-known play than either, however, is the 
“Weaver of Segovia.” It is in two parts. In the 
first, — which is not believed to be by Alarcon, and is 
of inferior merit, — its hero, Fernando Ramirez, 1s rep- 
resented as suffermg the most cruel injustice at the 
hands of his sovereign, who has put his father to death 
under a false imputation of treason, and reduced Ra- 
mirez himselfto the misery of earning his subsistence, 


the subject to which it relates. It where the date of Alarcon’s death is 
gained the prize of 1842. See, also, given by Pellizer y Tobar. 
Semanario Erudito, Tom. XXXI. p. 57, 


Cuar. XXI.] RUIZ DE ALARCON. 393 


diseuised as a weaver. Six years elapse, and in the 
second part he appears again, stung by new wrongs 
and associated with a band of robbers, at whose head, 
after spreading terror through the mountain 
range of the * Guadarrama, he renders such ser- * 335 
vice to his ungrateful king, in the crisis of a 
battle against the Moors, and extorts such confessions 
of his own and his father’s innocence from their dying 
enemy, that he is restored to favor, and becomes, in 
the Oriental style, the chief person in the kingdom he 
has rescued. He is, in fact, another Charles de Mohr, 
but has the advantage of being placed in a period of 
the world and a state of society where such a character 
is more possible than in the period assigned to it by 
Schiller, though it can never be one fitted for exhibi- 
tion in a drama that claims to have a moral purpose. 

“Truth itself Suspected” is, on the other hand, 
obviously written for such a purpose. It gives us the 
character of a young man, the son of a high-minded 
father, and himself otherwise amiable and interesting, 
who comes from the University of Salamanca to begin 
the world at Madrid, with an invincible habit of lying. 
The humor of the drama, which is really great, consists 
in the prodigious fluency with which he invents all 
sorts of fictions to suit his momentary purposes; the 
ingenuity with which he struggles against the true 
current of facts, although it runs every moment more 
and more strongly against him; and the final result, 
when, nobody believing him, he is reduced to the ne- 
cessity of telling the truth, and — by a mistake which 
he now finds it impossible to persuade any one he has 
really committed — loses the lady he had won, and is 
overwhelmed with shame and disgrace. 

Parts of this drama are full of spirit; such as the 





394 RUIZ DE ALARCON. [Perrop II. 


description of a student’s life at the University, and 
that of a brilliant festival given to a lady on the banks 
of the Manzanares ; both tinged with the Gongorism 
becoming a fop of the period. These, with the exhor- 
tations of the young man’s father, intended to cure him 
of his shameful fault, and not a little of the dialogue 
between the hero —if he may be so called — and his 
servant, are excellent. It is the piece from which 
Corneille took the materials for his “ Menteur,” and 
thus, in 1642, laid the foundations of classical French 
comedy in a play of Alarcon, as, six years before, 

he had laid the foundations for its classical 
*336 tragedy *in the “Cid” of Guillen de Castro. 

Alarcon, however, was then so little known, that 
Corneille honestly supposed himself to be using a play 
of Lope de Vega, and said so; though it should be re- 
membered, that when, some years afterwards, he found 
out his mistake, he did Alarcon the justice to restore 
him to his rights, adding that he would gladly give the 
two best plays he had ever written to be the author of 
the one he had so freely used. 

It would not be difficult to find other dramas of. 
Alarcon showing equal judgment and spirit. Such, in 
fact, is the one entitled “ Walls have Ears,” which, 
from its mode of exhibiting the ill consequences of 
slander and mischief-making, may be regarded as the 
counterpart to “Truth itself Suspected.” And such, 
too, is the “ Trial of Husbands,” which has had the for- 
tune to pass under the names of Lope de Vega and 
Montalvan, as well as of its true author, and would 
cast no discredit on either of them.® But it is enough 
to add to what we have already said of Alarcon, that 


16 Tt reminds me of that part of the Belmont, and I am not sure but its 
Merchant of Venice which passes at story goes back to a common source. 


Cuap, XXI.] VARIOUS DRAMATISTS. 395 


his style is excellent, — generally better than that of 
any but the very best of his contemporaries, — with 
less richness, indeed, than that of Tirso de Molina, 
and adhering more to the old ballad measure than 
that of Lope, but purer in versification than either 
of them, more simple and more natural; so that, on 
the whole, he is to be ranked with the very best Span- 
ish dramatists during the best period of the national 
theatre.” 

* Other writers who devoted themselves to * 337 
the drama were, however, as well known at 
the time they lived as he was, if not always as much 
valued. Among them may be mentioned Luis de Bel- 
monte, whose “Renegade of Valladolid” and “God 
the best Guardian” are singular mixtures of what is 
sacred with what is profane; Jacinto Cordero, whose 
“Victory through Love” was long a favorite on the 
stage; Andres Gil Enriquez, the author of a pleasant 
play called “The Net, the Scarf, and the Picture” ; 
Diego Ximenez de Enciso, who wrote grave historical 
plays on the life of Charles the Fifth at Yuste, and on 
the death of Don Carlos; Geronimo de Villaizan, whose 


17 Repertorio Americano, Tom, III. 
p- 61, Tom. IV. p. 93; Denis, Chro- 
niques de l’Espagne, Paris, 1839, 8vo, 
Tom. II. p. 231; Comedias Escogidas, 
Tom. XXVIII., 1667, p. 131. Cor- 
neille’s opinion of the ‘‘ Verdad Sospe- 
chosa,”’ which is often misquoted, is to 
be found in his ‘‘ Examen du Menteur.” 
I will only add, in relation to Alarcon, 
that, in ‘‘ Nunca mucho costd poco,” 
he has given us the character of an im- 
perious old nurse, which is well drawn, 
and made effective by the use of pic- 
turesque, but antiquated, words and 
phrases. 

Since the first edition of this work 
was published, (1849,) all the plays at- 
tributed to Alarcon, including one to 
which he was only a contributor, and 
two whose genuineness is doubtful, have 
been collected and published, with much 


care and taste, (Biblioteca de Autores 
Espafioles, Tom. XX., 1852,) by D. 
Juan Eugenio de Hartzenbusch. Their 
number is twenty-seven, and among 
them is the First Part of the ‘‘ Texedor 
de Segovia,” which, as Alarcon pub- 
lished the Second Part in his second 
volume, without any allusion to a first 
one, we suppose, as Hartzenbusch does, 
there is good ground for believing not 
to be his. - There is also internal evi- 
dence, I think, to the same effect. 

There is a French translation of five 
of the plays of Alarcon and abstracts 
of the rest by Alphonse Royer, 1865. 
If anybody would like to see how a 
Spanish comedia can be spoiled, I 
commend him to Royer’s version of the 
‘‘Ganar Amigos.” It is the only one 
in verse. The four others arg in prose, 
and are better. 


396 VARIOUS DRAMATISTS. [Perrop II. 


best play is “A Great Remedy for a Great Wrong”; 
and many others, such as Carlos Boil, Felipe Godinez, 
Miguel Sanchez, and Rodrigo de Herrera, who shared, 
in an inferior degree, the favor of the popular audiences 
at Madrid.® 
Writers distinguished in other branches of literature 
were also tempted by the success of those devoted to 
the stage to adventure for the brilliant prizes it scat- 
tered on all sides. Salas Barbadillo, who wrote many 
pleasant tales and died in 1635, left behind him two 
dramas, of which one claims to be in the manner of 
Terence.” Solorzano, who died ten years later, and 
was known in the same forms of elegant literature with 
Barbadillo, is the author of a spirited play, founded 
on the story of a lady, who, after having accepted a 
noble lover from interested motives, gives him up for 
the servant of that lover, put forward in dis- 
* 338 guise, as if he *were possessor of the very 
estates for which she had accepted his master.” 
Gongora wrote one play, and parts of two others, still 


18 The plays of these authors are 
found in the large collection entitled 
**Comedias Escogidas,” Madrid, 1652- 
1704, 4to, with the exception of those 
of Sanchez and Villaizan, which I pos- 
sess separate ; of Sanchez one, of Vil- 
laizan two. Of Belmonte, who is the 
author of the ‘‘Sastre de! Campillo,” 
commonly attributed to Lope de Vega, 
(see Shack’s Nachtrage, 1854, p. 62,) 
there are eleven in the collection, and 
of Godinez, five. Those of Miguel San- 
chez, who was very famous in his time, 
and obtained the addition to his name 
of El Divino, are nearly all lost; but 
his ‘‘ Guarda Cuidadosa”’ may be found 
in the ‘‘ Diferentes Comedias,” Parte 
V., 1616, mentioned ante, p. 297, note 
5. I observe from the ‘* Noches de 
Plazer” of Castillo Solorzano, (1631, f. 
5, b,) that Diego Ximenez de Enciso was 
a native of Seville and a Veintequatro 
of that city. Felipe Godinez (who is 
mentioned by Cervantes, but not, I 


think, by Antonio, by Lope de Vega, 
or by the common historians of Seville, 
where he was born) wrote a considerable 
number of plays, to be found in the old 
collections. He was alive in 1644, and 
enjoyed a good reputation in his time. 

19 The plays of Salas Barbadillo, viz. 
‘* Victoria de Espaia y Francia” and 
‘*E] Galan Tramposo y Pobre,” are in 
his ‘‘ Coronas del Parnaso,” left for pub- 
lication at his death, and published the 
same year, 1635, Madrid, 12mo. Other 
dramas by him are scattered through 
his other Works, — some of them called 
comedias antiguas, by which he means 
entremeses, because they were like the 
early dramas of Lope de Rueda a d his 
school, which were used as entremeses 
in the time of Barbadillo. 

20 It is called ‘‘ El Mayorazgo,” and 
is found with its Joa at the end of the 
author’s ‘‘ Alivios de Casandra,” 1640. 
Several other dramas are found scat- 
tered through his tale. 


Cuar. XXI.] PHILIP THE FOURTH. 397 


preserved in the collection of his Works ;72 and Que- 


vedo, to please the great favorite, the Count Duke 
Olivares, assisted in the composition of at least a single 
drama, which is now lost, if it be not preserved, under 
another name, in the works of Antonio de Mendoza.” 
But the circumstances of chief consequence in relation 
to all these writers are, that they belonged to the 
school of Lope de Vega, and that they bear witness 
to the vast popularity of his drama in their time, 
which could control men such as they were. 

Indeed, so attractive was the theatre now become, 
that ecclesiastics and the higher nobility, who, from 
their position in society, did not wish to be known as 
dramatic authors, still wrote for the stage, sending 
their plays to the actors or to the press anonymously. 
Such persons generally announced their dramas as 
written by “A Wit of this Court,” — Un Lagemo de esta 
Corte, —and a large collection of pieces could now be 
made, which are known only under this mask ; a mask, 
it may be observed, often significant of the pretensions 
of those whom it claims partly to conceal. Even Philip 
the Fourth, who was a lover of the arts and of letters, 
is said to have sometimes used it; and there is a com- 
mon tradition, but an erroneous one, that “Giving my 
Life for my Lady, or The Earl of Essex,” was his. 
Possibly, however, one or two other plays were either 
from his hand, or indebted to his poetical talent and 
skill. But even this is not very probable.” 


21 These are, ‘‘ Las Firmezas de Isa- 
bela,” ‘‘ El Doctor Carlino,” and ‘*‘ La 
Comedia Venatoria,” — the last two un- 
finished, and the very last allegorical. 

22 The play written to please the 
Count Duke was by Quevedo and An- 
tonio de Mendoza, and was entitled 
‘Quien mas miente medra mas,” — 
‘*He that lies most will rise most.” 
(C. Pellicer, Origen del Teatro, Tom. I. 


p. 177.) This play is lost, unless, as 
I suspect, it is the ‘‘ Empejios del Men- 
tir,” that occurs in Mendoza’s Works, 
1690, pp. 254-296. There are also 
four entremeses of Quevedo in his Works, 
1791, Vol. IX. 

#38 Philip IV. was a lover of letters. 
Translations of Francesco Guicciardini’s 
‘* Wars in Italy,” and of the ‘‘ Descrip- 
tion of the Low Countries,” by his 


[Pxriop II. 


398 EL DIABLO PREDICADOR. 


* One of the most remarkable of these “ Co- 
medias de un Ingenio” is that called “ The Devil 
turned Preacher.” Its scene is laid in Lucca, and its 
original purpose seems to have been to glorify Saint 
Francis, and to strengthen the influence of his follow- 
ers. At any rate, in the long introductory speech of 
Lucifer, that potentate represents himself as most 
happy at having so far triumphed over these his great 
enemies, that a poor community of Franciscans, estab- 
lished in Lucca, is likely to be starved out of the city 
by the universal ill-will he has excited against them. 
But his triumph is short. Saint Michael descends with 
the infant Saviour in his arms, and requires Satan him- 
self immediately to reconvert the same inhabitants 
whose hearts he had hardened ; to build up the very 
convent of the holy brotherhood which he had so 
nearly overthrown; and to place the poor friars, who 


* 339 


nephew, Luigi Guicciardini, made by 
Philip, and preceded by a well-written 
Prdlogo, are said to be in the National 
Library at Madrid. (C. Pellicer, Ort- 
gen, Tom. I. p. 162; Huerta, Teatro 
Hespafiol, Madrid, 1785, 12mo, Parte 
I., Tom. III. p. 159; and Ochoa, Tea- 
tro, Paris, 1838, 8vo, Tom. V. p. 98.) 
‘‘King Henry the Feeble” is also 
among the plays sometimes ascribed to 
Philip IV., who is said to have often 
joined in improvisating dramas, — an 
amusement well known at the court of 
Madrid, and at the hardly less splendid 
court of the Count de Lemos at Naples. 
C. Pellicer, Teatro, Tom. I. p. 163, and 
J. A. Pellicer, Bib. de Traductores, 
Tom. I. pp. 90-92, where a curious 
account, already referred to, is given of 
one of these Neapolitan exhibitions, by 
Estrada, who witnessed it. But I have 
great doubts concerning all these sug- 
gestions. That Philip IV. did not 
write the ‘‘Conde de Sex,” which I 
possess in Vol. XXXI. of the Diferentes 
Comedias, 1636, is settled by Schack, 
(Nachtrige, 1854, p. 102,) who found 
the original in the autograph of Coello, 
a known dramatist who died in 1652. 
It may be well to add, however, when 


speaking of this play, that there is a 
very acute and extended examination 
of it by Lessing, who, with Wieland, 
gave the first impulse to that love for 
Spanish literature in Germany which 
the Schlegels, Bouterwek, and Schack 
have since so well sustained. (See 
Hamburgische Dramaturgie, Berlin, 
1805, Tom. II. pp. 58-126.) But as 
to Philip IV., to whom poems are at- 
tributed in the Biblioteca of Rivade- 
neyra, (Tom. XLII., 1857, pp. 151, 
152,) and in the Spanish translation of 
this History, (Tom. Il. p. 563,) I doubt 
the genuineness of all of them. Philip 
IV. was a sensualist, —not, indeed, 
without a taste for letters and the arts, 
—but not an author in any proper 
sense of the word. And yet one of the 
court flatterers of the time could say of 
him : ‘‘ Es de los mas perfetos musicos 
y mas felices poetas que oy se conocen, 
sin que para esta verdad sea menester 
de valernos de la lisonja.” Pellicer de 
Salas, Lecciones solennes de Gongora, 
1630, col. 696, 697. The two sonnets 
attributed to Don Carlos of Austria, 
brother of Philip IV., are probably his, 
and are not bad fora prince. Rivade- 
neyra, l. c. p. 153. 


Cuap, XXI.] EL DIABLO PREDICADOR. 399 


were now pelted by the boys in the streets, upon a 
foundation of respectability safer than that from which 
he had driven them. The humor of the piece consists 
in his conduct while executing the unwelcome task 
thus imposed upon him. To do it, he takes, at once, 
the habit of the monks he detests; he goes 

round to beg for them; *he superintends the * 340 
erection of an ampler edifice for their accom- 
modation ; he preaches; he prays; he works miracles; 
—and all with the greatest earnestness and unction, 
in order the sooner to be rid of a business so thoroughly 
disagreeable to him, and of which he is constantly com- 
plaining in equivocal phrases and bitter side-speeches, 
that give him the comfort of expressing a vexation he 
cannot entirely control, but dares not openly make 
known. At last he succeeds. The hateful work is 
done. But the agent is not dismissed with honor. 
On the contrary, he is obliged, in the closing scene, to 
confess who he is, and to avow that nothing, after all, 
awaits him but the flames of perdition, into which he 
visibly sinks, like another Don Juan, before the edified 
audience. 

The action occupies above five months. It has an 
intriguing underplot, which hardly disturbs the course 
of the main story, and one of whose personages — the 
heroine herself—is gentle and attractive. The char- 
acter of the Father Guardian of the Franciscan monks, 
full of simplicity, humble, trustful, and submissive, is 
also finely drawn; and so is the opposite one, — the 
gracwso of the piece,—a har, a coward, and a glutton ; 
ignorant and cunning; whom Lucifer amuses himself 
with teasing, in every possible way, whenever he has 
a moment to spare from the disagreeable work he is so 
anxious to finish. 


400 EL DIABLO PREDICADOR. ([Perrop II. 


In some of the early copies, this drama, so character- 
istic of the age to which it belongs, is attributed to 
Luis de Belmonte, and in some of them to Antonio de 
Coello, called erroneously Zwis de Coello in the “ Cata- 
logo” of Huerta. Later, it is declared, though on what 
authority we are not told, to have been written by 
Francisco Damian de Cornejo, a Franciscan monk. All 
this, however, is uncertain, although Belmonte is more 
likely to have been its author than either of the others. 
But we know, that, for a long time after it appeared, 
it used to be acted as a devout work, favorable to the 
interests of the Franciscans, who then possessed great 
influence in Spain. In the latter part of the eigh- 
teenth century, however, this state of things was 
partly changed, and its public performance, for some 

reason or other, was forbidden. About 1800, it 
* 341 *reappeared on the stage, and was again acted, 

with great profit, all over the country, — the 
Franciscan monks lending. the needful monastic dresses 
for an exhibition they thought so honorable to their 
order. But in 1804 it was put anew under the ban of 
the Inquisition, and so remained until after the political 
revolution of 1820, which gave absolute liberty to the 
theatre.™ 


2 ©, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 184, 
note; Suplemento al Indice, etc., 1805; 
and an excellent article by Louis de 
Vieil Castel, in the Revue des Deux 
Mondes, July 15,1840. To these should 
be added the pleasant description given 
by Blanco White, in his admirable 
‘*Doblado’s Letters,” (1822, pp. 163 - 
169,) of a representation he himself 
witnessed of the ‘‘ Diablo Predicador,” 
in the court-yard of a poor inn, where 
a cow-house served for the theatre, or 
rather the stage, and the spectators, 
who paid less than twopence apiece for 
their places, sat in the open air, under 
a bright starry sky. 

My friend, Mr. J. R. Chorley, has 


drawn my attention to the fact, that a 
poor play by Francisco de Malaspina, 
entitled ‘‘La Fuerza de la Verdad,” is 
nearly identical in its subject with the 
‘*Diablo Predicador.” It is in the 
Comedias Escogidas, Tom. XIV., 1661, 
f. 182, and at the opening, the Devil 
puts his case with more force and in- 
genuity, I think, than he does in the 
*“‘Diablo Predicador.”” In two MSS. 
of the last, it is attributed to Francisco 
de Villegas, but the common opinion 
that it was written by Belmonte is the 
more likely one. Schack’s Nachtrage, 
1854, p. 62. 

Belmonte was born about 1587; was 
in the ‘‘Certamenes” for San Isidro at 


401 


CHap, XXI.] THE DRAMA OPPOSED. 


The school of Lope,” to which all the writers we 
have just enumerated, and many more, belonged, was 
not received with an absolutely universal applause. 
Men of learning, from time to time, refused to be rec- 
onciled to it; and severe or captious critics found in 
its gross irregularities and extravagances abundant 
opportunity for the exercise of a spirit of complaint. 
Alonso Lopez, commonly called El Pinciano, in his 
“Art of Poetry founded on the Doctrines of the 
Ancients,’ —a modést treatise, which he printed as 
early as 1596,—shows plainly, in his discussions on 
the nature of tragedy and comedy, that he was far 
from consenting to the forms of the drama then begin- 
ning to prevail on the theatre. The Argensolas, who, 
about ten years earlier, had attempted to introduce an- 
other and more classical type, would, of course, be even 
less satisfied with the tendency of things in their time ; 
and one of them, Bartolomé, speaks his opinion very 
openly in his didactic satires. Others joined them, 
among whom were Artieda, in a poetical epistle 
to the Marquis of Cuellar; * Villegas, the sweet * 342 
lyrical poet, in his seventh elegy; and Chris- 
toval de Mesa, in different passages of his minor poems, 
and in the Preface to his ill-constructed tragedy of 
“Pompey.” If to these we add a scientific discussion 
on the True Structure of Tragedy and Comedy, in the 
third and fourth of the Poetical Tables of Cascales, and 


Madrid in 1620 and 1622, and seems 
to have been alive in 1649. In the 
address to the reader, preceding the 
drama on the Marquis of Caitete, which 
it took nine poets to make so dull, (see 
post, Chap. XXVII. note 14,) he says 
of himself, ‘‘ Estando yo en Lima el afio 
de 605” ;—so-that he was in Peru when 
he was young, and ought to have known 
better than to assist in doing honor to 
such a man as he would illustrate. 


VOL. II. 26 


25 For the school of Lope, see Bib- 
lioteca de Autores Espajioles, (Tom. 
XLIII. and XLV., 1857 and 1858,) 
where Don Ramon de Mesonero Ro- 
manos has made a collection of fifty- 
nine plays to illustrate it. The Cata- 
logue of Authors, with alphabetical 
lists of their known plays following 
their names, is in Vol. XLIV., and is 
particularly valuable. 


402 THE DRAMA OPPOSED. [Pertop IL. 


a harsh account,of the whole popular Spanish stage, by 
Suarez de Figueroa, in which little is noticed but its 
follies, we shall have, if not everything that was said 
on the subject by the scholars of the time, at least 
everything that needs now to be remembered. The 
whole is of less consequence than the frank admissions 
of Lope de Vega, in his “ New Art of the Drama.” * 
The opposition of the Church, more formidable than 
that of the scholars of the time, was, in some respects, 
better founded, simce many of the plays of this period 
were indecent, and more of them immoral. The eccle- 
siastical influence, as we have seen, had, therefore, been 
early directed against the theatre, partly on this ac- 
count and partly because the secular drama had super- 
seded those representations in the churches which had 
so long been among the means used by the priesthood 
to sustain their power with the mass of the people. 
On these grounds, in fact, the plays of Torres Naharro 
were suppressed in 1545, and a petition was sent, in 
1548, by the Cortes, to Charles the Fifth, against the 
printing and publishing of all indecent farces.” 
* 343 For a *long time, however, little was done 


26 El Pinciano, Filosofia Antigua Po- 
ética, Madrid, 1596, 4to, p. 381, etc. ; 
Andres Rey de Artieda, Discursos, ete. 
de Artemidoro, Caragoca, 1605, 4to, 
f. 87; C. de Mesa, Rimas, Madrid, 
1611, 12mo, ff. 94, 145, 218, and his 
Pompeyo, Madrid, 1618, 12mo, with 
its Dedicatoria; Cascales, Tablas Po- 
éticas, Murcia, 1616, 4to, Parte II. ; 
C. S. de Figueroa, Pasagero, Madrid, 
1617, 12mo, Alivio tercero; Est. M. 
de Villegas, Erdticas, Najera, 1617, 
4to, Segunda Parte, f. 27; Los Argen- 
solas, Rimas, Zaragoza, 1634, 4to, p. 
447, JT have arranged them according 
to their dates, because, in this case, 
the order of time is important, and be- 
cause it should be noticed that all come 
within the period of Lope’s success as a 
dramatist. 


Gayangos, in his translation of this 
History, (Tom. II. pp. 558-560,) gives 
an account of an attack, in 1617, on 
Lope as a dramatist, by a certain Pedro 
Torres de Ramila, and of answers to it 
by Julio Columbario (a pseudonyme for 
Francisco Lopez de Aguilar) and Al- 
fonso Sanchez ; —all in Latin, and all, 
apparently, in the bitterest spirit of 
Spanish literary controversy. But Lope 
suffered little personally in this way. 
His popularity was overwhelming. Af- © 
ter his death, he was oftener attacked, 
e. g. by Antonio Lopez de Vega, (see 
post, Chap. XXIX.,) who did it, very 
ungratefully, in his Heraclito y Demo- 
crito, (1641, pp. 176, sqq.,) for Lope 
had been kind to him earlier. 

27 D. Quixote, ed. Clemencin, Tom. 
III. p. 402, note. 


Cuap. XXI.] THE DRAMA OPPOSED. 403 


but to suspend dramatic representations in seasons 
of court mourning, and on other occasions of public 
sorrow or trouble ;— this being, perhaps, thought by 
the clergy an exercise of their influence that would, in 
the course of events, lead to more important conces- 
sions. 

But as the theatre rose into importance with the 
popularity of Lope de Vega, the discussions on its 
character and consequences grew graver. Even just 
before that time, in 1587, Philip the Second consulted 
some of the leading theologians of the kingdom, and 
was urged to suppress altogether the acted drama; but, 
after much deliberation, he followed the milder opin- | 
ion of Alonso de Mendoza, a professor at Salamanca, 
and determined still to tolerate it, but to subject it 
constantly to a careful and even strict supervision. In 
1597,.the same Philip, more monk than king, ordered, 
according to the custom of the time, the public repre- 
sentations at Madrid to be suspended, in consequence 
of the death of his daughter, the Duchess of Savoy. 
But Philip was now old and infirm. The opposers of 
the theatre, among whom was Lupercio de Argensola, 
gathered around him.” The discussion was renewed 
with increased earnestness, and in 1598, not long be- 
fore he breathed his last in the Escorial, with his dying 
eyes fastened on its high altar, he forbade theatrical 
representations altogether. No attack, however, on 
the theatre and its actors was so grave and pungent 
as that of Mariana in his De Rege, 1599, repeated and 
reinforced in his De Spectaculis, ten years later. The 
wonder is that it produced so little effect, coming as 
it did, in its first form, during the dark period imme- 
diately following the death of the king. 

%8 Pellicer, Bib. de Traductores, Tom. I. p. 11. 


204 THE DRAMA TRIUMPHANT. [Perrop IT. 


Little, in truth, was really effected by this struggle on 
the part of the Church, except that the dramatic poets 
were compelled to discover ingenious modes for evad- 
ing the authority exercised against them, and that the 
character of the actors was degraded by it. To drive 
the drama from ground where it was so well intrenched 

behind the general favor of the people was 
* 344 impossible. The * city of Madrid, already the 

acknowledged capital of the country, begged 
that the theatres might again be opened; giving, 
as one reason for their request, that many religious 
plays were performed, by some of which both actors 
and spectators had been so moved to penitence as to 
hasten directly from the theatre to enter religious 
houses; and as another reason, that the rent paid 
by the companies of actors to the hospitals of Madrid 
was important to the very existence of those great and 
beneficent charities.” 

Moved by such arguments, Philip the Third, in 1600, 
when the theatres had been shut hardly two years, 
summoned a council of ecclesiastics and four of the 
principal secular authorities of the kingdom, and laid 
the whole subject before them. Under their advice, 
— which still condemned in the strongest manner the 
theatres as they had heretofore existed in Spain, — he 


29 Asa set-off to this alleged religious 
effect of the comedias de santos, we have, 
in the Address that opens the ‘*‘ Tratado 
de las Comedias,” (1618,) by Bisbe y 
Vidal, an account of a young girl who 
was permitted to see the representation 
of the ‘‘Conversion of Mary Magdalen” 
several times, as an act of devotion, 
and ended her visits to the theatre by 
falling in love with the actor that per- 
sonated the Saviour, and running off 
with him, or rather following him to 
Madrid. 

30 The account, however, was some- 
times the other way. Bisbe y Vidal 


(f. 98) says that the hospitals made 
such efforts to sustain the theatres, in 
order to get an income from them after- 
wards, that they themselves were some- 
times impoverished by the speculations 
they ventured to make ; and adds, that 
in his time (c. 1618) there was a person 
alive, who, as a magistrate of Valencia, 
had been the means of such losses to 
the hospital of that city, through its 
investments and advances for the the- 
atre that he had entered a religious 
house, and given his whole fortune to 
the hospital, to make up for the injury 
he had done it.. 


Cuap. XXI.] THE DRAMA TRIUMPHANT. 405 


permitted them to be opened anew; diminishing, how- 
ever, the number of actors, forbidding all immorality 
in the plays, and allowing representations only on Sun- 
days and three other days in the week, which were 
required to be Church festivals, if such festivals shouid 
occur. This decision has, on the whole, been hardly 
yet disturbed, and the theatre in Spain, with occasional 
alterations and additions of privilege, has continued to 
rest safely on its foundations ever since ; — closed, in- 
deed, sometimes, in seasons of public mourning, as it 
was three months on the death of Philip the Third, 
and again in 1665, by the bigotry of the queen 
regent, but never *interrupted for any long 
period, and never again called to contend for 
its existence. 
The truth is, that, from the beginning of the cia 
teenth century, the popular Spanish drama was too/ 
strong to be subjected either to classical criticism or to 
ecclesiastical control. In the “Amusing Journey” of |! 
Roxas, an actor who travelled over much of the coun- 
try in 1602, visiting Seville, Granada, Toledo, Valla- 
dolid, and many other places, we find plays acted 
everywhere, even in the smallest villages, and the 
drama, in all its forms and arrangements, accommo- 
dated to the public taste far beyond any other popular 
amusement.” In 1632, Montalvan —the best author- 
ity on such a subject — gives us the names of a crowd 
of writers for Castile alone; and three years later, 
Fabio Franchi, an Italian, who had lived in Spain, pub- 


* 346 


lished a eulogy on Lope, 


81 Roxas (1602) gives an amusing ac- 
count of the nicknames and resources 
of eight different kinds of strolling com- 
panies of actors, beginning with the 
bululu, which boasted of but one per- 
son, and going up to the full compania, 


which enumerates nearly 


which was required to have seventeen. 
(Viage, Madrid, 1614, 12mo, ff. 51- 
53.) These nicknames and distinctions 
were long known in Spain. Four of 
them occur in ‘‘ Estebanillo Gonzalez,” 
1646, c. 6. 


406 


THE DRAMA TRIUMPHANT. 


[Prerrop II. 


thirty of the same dramatists, and shows anew how 
completely the country was imbued with their influ- 


ence. 


There can, therefore, be no doubt, that, at the 


time of his death, Lope’s name was the great poetical 
name that filled the whole breadth of the land with its 
glory, and that the forms of the drama originated by 
him were established, beyond the reach of successful 
opposition, as the national and popular forms of the 


drama for all Spain.” 


82 On the whole subject of the contest 
between the Church and the theatre, 
and the success of Lope and his school, 
see C. Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. pp. 
118-122, and 142-157 ; Don Quixote, 
ed. J. A. Pellicer, Parte TL. c. 11, note; 
Roxas, Viage, 1614, passim (f. 66, im- 
plying that he wrote in 1602) ; Montal- 
van, Para Todos, 1661, p. 543; Lope 
de Vega, Obras Sueltas, Tom. XXI. p. 
66; and many other parts of Vols. XX. 
and XXI. ;—all showing the triumph 
of Lope and his school. A letter of 
Francisco Cascales to Lope de Vega, 
published in 1634, in defence of plays 
and their representation, is the third 
in the second decade of his Epistles ; 


but it goes on the untenable ground, 
that the plays then represented were 
liable to no objection on the score of 
morals. Ricardo del Turia — probably 
a pseudonyme for Luis Ferrer y Car- 
dona, governor of Valencia, to whom, 
in my copy of the ‘‘Comedias de Poe- 
tas de Valencia,” 1609, that volume is 
dedicated — takes, on ‘the contrary, in 
his Preface to the second volume, 1616, 
the theatre as it really existed, and 
defends it not without learning and 
acuteness. He died in 1641. Bar- 
rera, however, maintains that Pedro 
Juan de Toledo was the person dis- 
guised under the name of Ricardo de 
Turia. 


OH AP Tie Rape 1 I: 


CALDERON.— HIS LIFE AND 


* 346 


VARIOUS WORKS.— DRAMAS FALSELY ATTRIB- 


UTED TO HIM.—HIS SACRAMENTAL AUTOS.— HOW REPRESENTED. — THEIR 
CHARACTER. —THE DIVINE ORPHEUS.—GREAT POPULARITY OF SUCH EX- 
HIBITIONS. — HIS FULL-LENGTH RELIGIOUS PLAYS. — PURGATORY OF SAINT 
PATRICK.—DEVOTION TO THE CROSS.— WONDER-WORKING MAGICIAN. — 


OTHER SIMILAR PLAYS. 


Turnine from Lope de Vega and his school, we come 


now to his great successor and rival, Pedro Calderon 
de la Barca, who, if he invented no new form of the 
drama, was yet so eminently a poet in the national 
temper, and had a success so brilliant, that he must 
necessarily fill a large space in all inquiries concerning 
the history of the Spanish theatre. 

He was born at Madrid, on the 17th of January, 
1600 ;' and one of his friends claims kindred for him with 
nearly all the old kings of the different Spanish mon- 


archies, and even with most of the crowned heads 


of his time, throughout Europe? 


1 There has been some discussion, 
and a general error, about the date of 
Calderon’s birth; but in a rare book, 
entitled ‘* Obelisco Funebre,” published 
in his honor, by his friend Gaspar Au- 
gustin de Lara, (Madrid, 1684, 4to,) 
and written immediately after Calde- 
ron’s death, it is distinctly stated, on 
the authority of Calderon himself, that 
he was born January 17, 1600. This 
settles all doubts. The certificate of 
baptism given in Baena, ‘‘Hijos de 
Madrid,” Tom. IV. p. 228, only says 
that he was baptized February 14, 
1600; but why that ceremony, con- 
trary to custom, was so long delayed, 
or why a person in the position of Vera 
Tassis y Villaroel, who, like Lara, was 
a friend of Calderon, should have placed 


Thiswia *ab- “o4¢ 


the poet’s birth on January 1st, we can- 
not now even conjecture. 

2 See the learned genealogical intro- 
duction to the ‘‘Obelisco Funebre,” 
just cited. The name of Calderon, as 
its author tells us, came into the fam- 
ily in the thirteenth century, when one 
of its number, being prematurely born, 
was supposed to be dead, but was as- 
certained to be alive by being uncere- 
moniously thrown into a caldron — cal- 
deron — of warm water. As he proved 
to be a great man, and was much fa- 
vored by St. Ferdinand and Alfonso 
the Wise, his nickname became a name 
of honor, and five caldrons were, from 
that time, borne in the family arms. 
The additional surname of Barca came 
in later, with an estate — solar — of 


4AQ8 PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. [Periop II, 


surd. But it is of consequence to know that his 
family was respectable, and its position in society 
such as to give him an opportunity for early intellec- 
tual culture ; — his father being Secretary to the Treas- 
ury Board under Philip the Second and Philip the 
Third, and his mother of a noble family, that came 
from the Low Countries long before. Perhaps, how- 
ever, the most curious circumstance connected with his 
origin is to be found in the fact, that, while the two 
masters of the Spanish drama, Lope de Vega and Cal- 
deron, were both born in Madrid, the families of both 
are to be sought for, at an earlier period, in the same 
little rich and beautiful valley of Carriedo, where each 
possessed an ancestral fief? 

When only nine years old, he was placed under the 
Jesuits, and from them received instructions which, 
"like those Corneille was receiving at the same moment, 
in the same way, on the other side of the Pyrenees, 
imparted their coloring to the whole of his life, and 
especially to its latter years. After leaving the Jesuits, 
he went to Salamanca, where he studied with distinc- 
tion the scholastic theology and philosophy then in 
fashion, and the civil and canon law. But when he 
was graduated from that University in 1619, he was 
already known as a writer for the theatre ; and when 
he arrived at Madrid, he seems, probably on this ac- 
count, to have been at once noticed by some of those 


one of the house, who afterwards per- 
ished, fighting against the Moors; in 
consequence of which, a castle, a gaunt- 
let, and the motto, Por la fé moriré, 
were added to their escutcheon, which, 
thus arranged, constituted the not in- 
appropriate arms of the poet in the 
seventeenth century. 

8 See the notice of Calderon’s father 
im Baena, Tom. I. p. 305; that of Cal- 
deron himself, Tom. IV. p. 228; and 
that of Lope de Vega, Tom. IIT. p. 350; 


but, especially, see the different facts 
about Calderon scattered through the 
dull prose introduction to the ‘‘Obe- 
lisco Fiinebre,” and its still more dull 
poetry. The biographical sketch of him 
by his friend Vera Tassis y Villaroel, 
originally prefixed to the fifth volume 
of his Comedias, and to be found in the 
first volume of the editions since, is 
formal, pedantic, and unsatisfactory, 
like most notices of the old Spanish 
authors. 


Cuar. XXII.] PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. 409 


persons about the court who could best promote his 
advancement and success. 

In 1620, he entered, with the leading spirits of his 
time, into the first poetical contest opened by the city 
of Madrid in honor of San Isidro, and received 
for his * efforts the public compliment of Lope * 348 
de Vega’s praise.* In 1622, he appeared at the 
second and greater contest proposed by the capital, on 
the canonization of the same saint; and gained — all 
that could be gained by one individual —a single 
prize, with still further and more emphatic praises 
from the presiding spirit of the show. In the same 
year, too, when Lope published a considerable volume 
containing an account of all these ceremonies and 
rejoicings, we find that the youthful Calderon ap- 
proached him as a friend, with a few not ungraceful 
lines, which Lope, to show that he admitted the claim, 
prefixed to his book. But from that time we entirely 
lose sight of Calderon as an author, or obtain only 
uncertain hints of him, for ten years, except that in 
1630 he figures in Lope de Vega’s “ Laurel of Apollo,” 
among the crowd of poets born in Madrid® 

Much of this interval seems to have been filled with 
service in the armies of his country. At least, he was 


* His sonnet for this occasion is in or eight poems offered by Calderon at 


Lope de Vega, Obras Sueltas, Tom. XI. 
p. 432; and his octavas are at p. 491. 
Both are respectable for a youth of 
twenty. The praises of Lope, which 
are unmeaning, are at p. 593 of the 
same volume. Who obtained the prizes 
at this festival of 1620 is not known. 

5 The different pieces offered by Cal- 
deron for the festival of May 17, 1622, 
are in Lope de Vega, Obras Sueltas, 
Tom. XII. pp. 181, 239, 303, 363, 384. 
Speaking of them, Lope (p. 413) says, 
a prize was given to ‘‘ Don Pedro Cal- 
deron, who, in his tender years, earns 
the laurels which time is wont to pro- 
duce only with hoary hairs.” The six 


these two poetical joustings are valua- 
ble, not only as being the oldest of his 
works that remain to us, but as being 
among the few specimens of his verse 
that we have, except his dramas. Cer- 
vantes, in his Don Quixote, intimates 
that, at such poetical contests, the first 
prize was given from personal favor, or 
from regard to the rank of the aspirant, 
and the second with reference only to 
the merit of the poem presented. (Parte 
II. c. 18.) Calderon took, on this oc- 
casion, only the third prize for a can- 
cion ; the first being given to Lope, and 
the second to Zarate. 


6 Silva VII. 


410 PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. [Perrop II. 


in the Milanese in 1625, and afterwards, as we are 
told, went to Flanders, where a disastrous war was still 
carried on with unrelenting hatred, both national and 
religious. That he was not a careless observer of men 
and manners, during his campaigns, we see by the plots 
of some of his plays, and by the lively local descrip- 
tions with which they abound, as well as by the char-, 
acters of his heroes, who often come fresh from these! 
same wars, and talk of their adventures with an air of 

reality that leaves no doubt that they speak of 
* 349 what had * absolutely happened. But we soon 

find him in the more appropriate career of let- 
ters. In 1632, Montalvan tells us that Calderon was 
already the author of many dramas, which had been 
acted with applause; that he had gained many public 
prizes; that he had written a great deal of lyrical 
verse ; and that he had begun a poem on the General 
Deluge. His reputation as a poet, therefore, at the 
age of thirty-two, was an enviable one, and was fast 
rising.” 

A dramatic author of such promise could not be 
overlooked in the reign of Philip the Fourth, especially 
when the death of Lope, in 1635, left the theatre with- 
out a master. In 1636, therefore, Calderon was for- 
mally attached to the court, for the purpose of furnish- 
ing dramas to be represented in the royal theatres ; 
and in 1637, as a further honor, he was made a knight 
of the Order of Santiago. His very distinctions, how- 
ever, threw him back once more into a military life. 
When he was just well entered on his brilliant career 
as a poet, the rebellion excited by France in Catalonia 
burst forth with great violence, and all the members of 


7 Para Todos, ed. 1661, pp. 589, 540, But these sketches were prepared in 
1632. 


Cap. XXII] PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. All 


the four great military orders of the kingdom were re- 
quired, in 1640, to appear in the field and sustain the 
royal authority. Calderon, like a true knight, pre- 
sented himself at once to fulfil his duty. But the king 
was so anxious to enjoy his services in the palace, that 
he was willing to excuse him from the field, and asked 
from him yet another drama. In great haste, the poet 
finished his “ Contest of Love and Jealousy,’*® and 
then joined the army; serving loyally through the 
campaign in the body of troops commanded by the 
Count Duke Olivares in person, and remaining in the 
field till the rebellion was quelled. 

After his return, the king testified his increased re- 
gard for Calderon by giving him a pension of thirty 
gold crowns a month, and by employing him in 
the arrangements for *the festivities of the * 350 
court, when, in 1649, the new queen, Anna 
Maria of Austria, made her entrance into Madrid. 
From this period, he enjoyed a high degree of favor 
during the life of Philip the Fourth, and until the 
death of that Prince had a controlling influence over 
whatever related to the drama, writing secular and re- 
ligious plays for the theatres and autos for the Church 
with uninterrupted applause. 

In 1651, he followed the example of Lope de Vega 
and other men of letters of his time, by entering a re- 
ligious brotherhood ; and the king two years afterwards 
gave him the place of chaplain in a chapel consecrated 
to the “New Kings” at Toledo ;—a burial-place set 
apart for royalty, and richly endowed from the time 


of Henry of Trastamara. 


§ It has been said that Calderon has 
given to none of his dramas the title 
Vera Tassis assigns to this one, viz. 
**Certamen de Amor y Zelos.” But 


this is a mistake. No play with this 


But it was found that his 


precise title is to be found among his 
printed works; but it is the last but 
one in the list of his plays furnished by 
Calderon himself to the Duke of Vera- 
guas, in 1680. 


412 PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. _ [Peniop II. 


duties there kept him too much from the court, to 
whose entertaimment he had become important. In 
1663, therefore, he was created chaplain of honor to 
the king, who thus secured his regular presence at 
Madrid ; though, at the same time, he was permitted 
to retain his former place, and even had a second 
added to it. In the same year, he became a Priest of 
the Congregation of Saint Peter, and soon rose to be 
its head ; an office of some importance, which he held 
during the last fifteen years of his life, fulfilling its 
duties with great gentleness and dignity. 

This accumulation of religious benefices, however, 
did not lead him to intermit in any degree his dramatic 
labors. On the contrary, it was rather intended to 
stimulate him to further exertion; and his fame was 
now so great, that the cathedrals of Toledo, Granada, 
and Seville constantly solicited from him religious 
plays to be performed on the day of the Corpus Christi, 
— that great festival, for which, during nearly thirty- 
seven years, he furnished similar entertainments regu- 
larly, at the charge of the city of Madrid. For these 
services, as well as for his services at court, he was 
richly rewarded, so that he accumulated an ample 
fortune. 

After the death of Philip the Fourth, which 

*351 happened *in 1665, he seems to have enjoyed 
less of the royal patronage. Charles the Sec- 

ond had a temper very different from that of his prede- 
cessor; and Solis, the historian, speaking of Calderon, 
with reference to these circumstances, says pointedly, 
“He died without a Meecenas.”” But still he contin- 


9 «He knew how,” says Augustin de 10 «*Muriéd sin Mecenas.” Aproba- 
Lara, ‘‘to unite, by humility and pru-  cion to the ‘‘Obelisco,” dated October 
dence, the duties of an obedient child 30,1683. All that relates to Calderon 
and a loving father.” in this very rare volume is important, 


Cuar. XXII.] PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. 413 


ued to write as before, for the court, and for the 
churches; and retained, through his whole life, the 
extraordinary general popularity of nis best years." 
He died in 1681, on the 25th of May,—the Feast 
of the Pentecost, — while all Spain was ringing with 
the performance of his autos, in the composition of one 
more of which he was himself occupied almost to the 
last moment of his life.” | 

The next day, he was borne, as his will required, 
without any show, to his grave in the church of San 
Salvador, by the Priests of the Congregation over which 
he had so long presided, and to which he now left the 
whole of his fortune. But a gorgeous funeral cere- 
mony followed a few days later, to satisfy the claims | 
of the popular admiration; and even at Valencia, 
Naples, Lisbon, Milan, and Rome, public notice was 
taken of his death by his countrymen, as of a na- 


tional calamity.” 


because it comes from a friend, and was 
written, —at least the poetical part of 
it, — as the author tells us, within fifty- 
three days after Calderon’s death. 

11 It seems probable that Calderon 
wrote no plays expressly for the public 
stage after he became a priest, in 1651, 
confining himself to autos and to ‘‘Co- 
medias ” for the court, which last, how- 
ever, were at once transferred to the 
theatres of the capital. Thus ‘‘La 
Fiera, el Rayo, y la Piedra,” a drama 
which lasted seven hours on its first 
representation at the palace, was imme- 
diately given to the public of Madrid 
and acted thirty-seven afternoons con- 
secutively. It may be hoped, that, the 
court ceremonies being omitted, the city 
audiences were not so long detained. 

12 «Estava un auto entonces en los 
fines, como su autor.” (Obelisco, Canto 
I., st. 22. See also a sonnet at the end 
of the volume.) Solis, the historian, 
in one of his letters, says, ‘‘ Our friend 
Don Pedro Calderon is just dead, and 
went off, as they say the swan does, 
singing ; for he did all he could, even 
when he was in immediate danger, to 
finish the second auto for the Corpus. 


A monument to his memory was 


But, after all, he completed only a little 
more than half of it, and it has been 
finished in some way or other by Don 
Melchor de Leon.” (Cartas de N. An- 
tonio y A. Solis, publicadas por Mayans 
y Siscar, Leon de Francia, 1733, 12mo, 
p. 75.) 

Melchor Fernandez de Leon was a 
well-known dramatist of this period, 
but, by no means, one to tread in the 
footsteps of Calderon. 

MacCarthy says that the Pleyto Mat- 
rimonial was left unfinished by Calde- 
ron and was completed by Zamora, as 
may be seen, he says, in Vol. IV. of 
the Autos. See MacCarthy’s Myste- 
ries of Corpus Christi, 1857, p. 104, 
note. 

18 Lara, in his ‘‘Advertencias,” speaks 
of ‘‘the funeral eulogies printed in Va- 
lencia.” Vera Tassis mentions them 
also, without adding that they were 
printed. A copy of them would be 
very interesting, as they were the work 
of ‘‘the illustrious gentlemen” of the 
household of the Duke of Veraguas, 
Calderon’s friend. The substance of 
the poet’s will is given in the ‘‘Obelis- 
co,” Canto L., st. 32, 33. 


Ld 


414 PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. 


[Periop II. 


soon *erected in the church where he was 
buried ; but in 1840 his remains were removed 
to the more splendid church of the Atocha, where 
they now rest." 

Calderon, we are told, was remarkable for his per- 
sonal beauty, which he long preserved by the serenity 
and cheerfulness of his spirit. The engravings pub- 
lished soon after his death show, at least, a strongly 
marked and venerable countenance, to which in fancy 
we may easily add the brilliant eye and gentle voice 
given to him by his friendly eulogist,. while in the 
ample and finely turned brow we are reminded of 
that with which we are familiar in the portraits of our 
own great dramatic poet.” His character, throughout, 
seems to have been benevolent and kindly. In his old 
age, we learn that he used to collect his friends round 
him on his birthdays, and tell them amusing stories of 
his childhood ;** and during the whole of the active 
part of his life, he enjoyed the regard of many of the 
distinguished persons of his time, who, like the Count 


* 352 


14 An account of the first monument 
and its inscription is to be found in 
Baena, Tom. IV. p. 231; and an ac- 
count of the removal of the poet’s ashes 
to the convent of “‘ Our Lady of Atocha” 
is in the Foreign Quarterly Review, 
April, 1841, p. 227. An attempt to do 
still further honor to the memory of 
Calderon was made by the publication 
of a life of him, and of poems in his 
honor by Zamacola, Zorrilla, Hartzen- 
busch, etc., in a folio pamphlet, Ma- 
drid, 1840, as well as by a subscription. 

15 His fine capacious forehead is no- 
ticed by his eulogist, and is obvious in 
the prints of 1682 and 1684, which little 
resemble the copies made from them by 
later engravers : — 

Considerava de su rostro grave 
Lo capaz de la frente, la viveza 
De los ojos alegres, lo suave 
De la voz, etc. 
Canto I., st. 41. 

Whether either of the prints referred 
to is made from a portrait of Calderon 
by Alonso Cano, or from one by Juan 


de Alfaro, or from some other, I do not 
know. Those by the two first, how- 
ever, are likely to have been the best. 
Stirling’s Artists of Spain, Vol. II. p. 
803; Vol. III. p. 1116. 

Since the above was published, in 
1849, a gay description of himself by 
Calderon has been found and print- 
ed. (Bib. de Autores Espafioles, Tom. 
XXIV., 1853, p. 585.) It is thrown 
into the form of a ballad, and, although 
the only copy of it known to exist is 
imperfect, it is very curious. He ad- 
dresses it to a lady, and countenances 
his claim to a very proud ancestry, but 
not one so proud as Lara afterwards set 
up for him ;—alludes to the remarka- 
ble prominence of his forehead, so obvi- 
ous in the old prints ;— says he is of a 
middle stature and of a pale complex- 
ion, that he takes no snuff, and that 
the hope of a prize at the Festival of 
San Isidro made a poet of him. Itisa 
pleasant jeu-d'esprit. 

16 Prdlogo to the ‘‘ Obelisco.” 


CHaP. XXII.] 


CALDERON'S WORKS. 415 


Duke Olivares and the Duke of Veraguas, seem to 
have been attracted to him quite as much by the gen- 
tleness of his nature as by his genius and fame. 

In a life thus extending to above fourscore 
years, *nearly the whole of which was devoted * 353 
to letters, Calderon produced a large number of 


works. 


Except, however, a panegyric on the Duke of 


Medina de Rioseco, who died in 1647, and a single 
volume of qutos, which is said to have been printed in 
1676, and of which there is certainly an edition in 
1690, he published hardly anything of what he 


wrote; and yet, beside 


17 The account of the entrance of the 
new queen into Madrid, in 1649, writ- 
ten by Calderon, was indeed printed ; 
but it was under the name of Lorenco 
Ramirez de Prado, who, assisted by 
Calderon, arranged the festivities of the 
occasion. 

18 The unpublished works of Calde- 
ron, as enumerated by Vera Tassis, Ba- 
ena, and Lara, are :— 

(1.) **Disecurso de los Quatro Novisi- 
mos”; or what, in the technics of his 
theology, are called the four last things 
to be thought upon by man; viz. Death, 
Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. Lara 
says Calderon read him three hundred 
octave stanzas of it, and proposed to 
complete it in one hundred more. It 
is, no doubt, lost. 

(2.) ‘*Tratado defendiendo la No- 
bleza de la Pintura.’”’ It is probable 
that this Defence of Painting was a 
‘*Deposicion”’ of eighteen pages made 
by Calderon to the Procwrador de Ca- 
mara, in order to defend the professors 
of the art from a sort of military con- 
scription with which they were threat- 
ened. At any rate, this curious docu- 
ment, of which I find no other notice, 
is printed in the ‘‘ Cajon de Sastre Lite- 
rato, ec., por Don Francisco Mariano 
Nifo, or Nipho,” (Tom. IV., 1781, pp. 
25, sqq.,) —a confused collection of ex- 
tracts, sometimes rare and interesting, 
and sometimes quite worthless, from 
Spanish authors of the earlier times, 
mixed up with odds and ends of the 
ee opinions and fancies of Seftor 

ipho himself, who was a translator 


several longer works, he 


and hack writer of the reigns of Ferdi- 
nand VI. and Charles III. 

(3.) ‘Otro tratado, Defensa de la 
Comedia.” 

(4.) ** Otro tratado, sobre el Diluvio 
General.”” The last two tratados were 
probably poems, like the ‘‘ Discurso.” 
At least, that on the Deluge is men- 
tioned as such by Montalvan and by 
Lara. 

(5.) ** Lagrimas, que vierte un Alma 
arrepentida 4 la Hora de la Muerte.” 
This, however, is not unpublished, 
though so announced by Vera Tassis. 
It is a little poem in the ballad meas- 
ure, which I detected first in a singular 
volume, where probably it first appeared, 
entitled ‘‘ Avisos para la Muerte, escri- 
tos por algunos Ingenios de Espafia 4 
la Devocion de Bernardo de Oviedo, 
Secretario de su Majestad, ec., publi- 
cados por D. Luis Arellano,” Valencia, 
1634, 18mo, 90 leaves ; reprinted, Zara- 
goza, 1648, and often besides. It con- 
sists of the contributions of thirty poets, 
among whom are no less personages 
than Luis Velez de Guevara, Juan Pe- 
rez de Montalvan, and Lope de Vega. 
The burden of Calderon’s poem, which 
is given with his name attached to it, 
is **O dulce Jesus mio, no entres, Sefior, 
con vuestro siervo en juicio!” and a 
translation of it may be found in Car- 
dinal Diepenbrock’s ‘‘ Geistliche Blu- 
menstraus,” 1852, p. 186. The two 
following stanzas are a favorable speci- 
men of the whole : — 


O quanto el nacer, O quanto, 
Al morir es parecido! 


416 CALDERON’S DRAMAS. 


[PERtopD II. 


*354 prepared for the academies *of which he 

was a member, and for the poetical festivals 
and joustings then so common in Spain, a great num- 
ber of odes, songs, ballads, and other poems, which gave 
him not a little of his fame with his contemporaries.” 
His brother, indeed, printed some of his full-length 
dramas in 1635 and 1637 ;” but we are expressly told, 
although the fact is doubtful, that Calderon himself 
never sent any of them to the press;* and even in 
the case of the autos, where he deviated from his estab- 
lished custom, he says he did it unwillingly, and only 
lest their sacred character should be impaired by im- 
perfect and surreptitious publications. 

For forty-eight years of his life, however, the press 
teemed with dramatic works bearing his name on their 
titles. As early as 1633, they began to appear in the 
popular collections ; but many of them were not his, 


Pues, si nacimos llorando, 
Llorando tambien morimos 
O dulce Jesus mio, etc. 


Un gemido la primera 
Salva fué que al mundo hizimos, 
Y el ultimo vale que 
Le hazemos es un gemido. 
O dulce Jesus mio, etc. 


How much resembles here our birth 
The final hour of all! 
Weeping at first we see the earth, 
And weeping hear Death’s call. 
O, spare me, Jesus, spare me, Saviour dear, 
Nor meet thy servant as a Judge severe! 


When first we entered this dark world, 
We hailed it with a moan ; 
And when we leave its confines dark, 
Our farewell is a groan. 
O, spare me, Jesus, spare me, Saviour dear, 
Nor meet thy servant as a Judge severe! 


The whole of the little volume in which 
it occurs may serve to illustrate Span- 
ish manners, in an age when a gentle- 
man of condition and a courtier sought 
spiritual comfort by such means and in 
such sources. 

Fifteen miscellaneous poems of Cal- 
deron — eight of which I had already 
known separately — have been brought 
together since the preceding account 
was first published in 1849, and may 
now be found in the Biblioteca de Au- 


tores Espafiles, Tom. XIV., 1850, pp. 
724, ec., and Tom. XXIV., 1853, p. 585. 
But they can be only a small portion 
of what Calderon wrote ; — probably 
only a small portion of what he printed 
anonymously or circulated in manu- 
script after the fashion of his time. Of 
one of them, entitled Psalle et Sile, 
from an inscription in the choir of the 
cathedral at Toledo, I found a copy of 
the original edition, with the Aproba- 
cion, dated December 31, 1661, in the 
Hof Bibliothek at Vienna. 

19 Lara and Vera Tassis, both per- 
sonal friends of Calderon, speak of the 
number of these miscellanies as very 

eat. 

20 There were four volumes in all, 
and Calderon, in his Preface to the 
Autos, 1690, seems to admit their gen- 
uineness, though he abstains, with ap- 
parent caution, from directly declaring 
it, lest he should seem to imply that 
their publication had ever been author- 
ized by him. 

21 <* All men well know,” says Lara, 
‘*that Don Pedro never sent any of his 
comedias to the press, and that those 
which were printed were printed against 
his wilh” Obelisco, Prologo. 


Cuar. XXII.] 


CALDERON’S DRAMAS. 


417 


and the rest were so disfigured by the imperfect man- 
ner in which they had been written down during their 
representations, that he says he could often hardly 


recognize them himself.” 


22 The publication of Calderon’s plays 
in the earliest editions of them is a 
matter of importance which has never 
been cleared up, probably in conse- 
quence of its obscurity and difficulty. 
I will, therefore, endeavor to do it as 
far as I can from the materials in my 
possession. 

The first play of Calderon that I 
know to have been printed is ‘‘ El As- 
trologo Fingido,” which I possess in 
the very rare ‘‘Comedias de diferentes 
Autores,” (Tom. XXV., Zaragoga, 
1633,) with a Licencia of 1632, when 
its author was thirty-two years old. 
In the table of contents it is called ‘‘ El 
Amante Astrologo,” and in the dedica- 
tion of it to Fran. Ximenez de Urrea, 
Pedro Escuer, the editor, says that he 
had taken great pains to print it from 
a good copy ;— an assertion which the 
text he has given hardly justifies. 

Three more plays of Calderon appear 
in Tom. XXVIII. of the same collection, 
edited by Escuer, Huesca, 1634. These 
three plays are, —(1.) ‘‘ La Industria 
contra el Poder,” which is here ascribed. 
to Lope de Vega, but which is really 
Calderon’s ‘‘Amor, Honor y Poder” ; 
(2.) ‘‘De un Castigo tres Venganzas,” 
now called ‘‘Un Castigo en tres Vengan- 
zas”’; and (3.) ‘‘ La Cruz en la Sepul- 
tura,”’ which is a first and very inferior 
recension of the well-known ‘‘ Devocion 
de la Cruz.” I have this volume also. 

Again, three plays of Calderon occur 
in Vol. XXX. of the ‘‘Comedias de 
diferentes Autores,” which, as my copy, 
though otherwise perfect, lacks its title- 
page, I learn only from Bellinghausen 
(p. 21) was printed at Zaragoza in 1636. 
The three plays referred to are, —(1.) 
** La Dama Duende,” (2.) ‘‘ La Vida es 
Suefio,” and (3.) ‘‘ El Privilegio de las 
Mujeres,” which, as here given, he 
wrote, according to Hartzenbusch, with 
Montalvan and Coello, and which, in 
this form, is the original sketch of the 
‘*Armas de la Hermosura.” 

One play only can be found in Vol. 
XXXI., Barcelona, 1638, f. 22, ‘‘Con 
quien vengo vengo,” where it appears, 
like the other plays in this volume, with- 


VOL. II. 27 


His editor and friend, 


out his name. But it is his. Hart- 
zenbusch gives it the date of 1639. Of 
course this is a mistake of a year at least. 

Four plays of Calderon appear in Vol. 
XLII., Zaragoga, 1650, viz. : (1.) ‘*No 
ay Burlas con el Amor,” (2.) ‘‘ El Se- 
creto a Voces,” and (3.) ‘‘ El Pintor de 
su Deshonra”’ ;— but ‘‘ Del Rey abajo 
Ninguno” is also attributed to him, 
though everybody knows it belongs to 
Roxas, and, on the other hand, (4.) his 
‘* Hija del Ayre” is attributed to Ant. 
Enriquez Gomez. 

One play only is to be found in Vol. 
XLIII., Zaragoza, 1650, published by 
Escuer, viz. ‘* La Desdicha de la Voz.” 

How many more there may be by 
Calderon in this collection, designated 
as the Diferentes Comedias, it is not 
possible to ascertain, as so few of its 
volumes are known to exist. No doubt 
there were others besides those I have 
enumerated. 

But in 1652 began the collection of 
the Comedias Hscogidas, better known 
than the last, but still troublesomely 
rare. In the very first volume, pub- 
lished in that year, are three plays of 
Calderon, to the publication of which 
it seems as if he must have directly as- 
sented, since his Aprovacion, dated 18 
May, 1652, is the first thing in the 
volume. This, however, is only the 
beginning. Forty-six more volumes of 
this new collection appeared during his 
lifetime, and contain forty-eight plays 
attributed to him, many of them not 
his, and almost all full of errors, ad- 
ditions, and oversights. But two de- 
serve especial notice, viz. “‘ Las Armas 
de la Hermosura,” and ‘‘ La Sefiora y 
la Criada,” the last now known as ‘‘ El 
Acaso y el Error.” They are in Vol. 
XLVI., 1679, and Vera Tassis, the 
friend of Calderon, in his Advertencia 
to the Comedias de Calderon, Tom. V., 
1694, says that Calderon himself gave 
them to him, Vera Tassis, to be printed, 
and corrected their proof-sheets. We 
have, therefore, these two plays at least 
exactly as Calderon prepared them, and 
on his own authority. 

But while, in both these larger col- 


418 


CALDERON ’S DRAMAS. 


[Perrop II. 


*355 *Vera Tassis, gives several lists of plays, 
amounting in all to a hundred and fifteen, 


lections, as well as in others of less 
pretension, separate plays of Calderon 
were constantly reprinted during his 
lifetime, often in the most lawless man- 
ner, an attempt was made to publish 
them together in a way that should 
give them the semblance, at least, if 
not the substance, of their author’s au- 
thority. Two volumes were published 
for this purpose by his brother Joseph. 
Of the first, which I have never seen, 
but which appeared in 1635, the ac- 
counts are very indistinct ; but it prob- 
ably contained the same plays with 
the first volume of the collection by 
Vera Tassis, printed in 1685. (Hart- 
zenbusch, Tom. IV., p. 654.) The 
second volume, published by the same 
person, appeared in 1637. I possess it, 
and the plays, though not exactly in 
the same order, are the same plays with 
those published by Vera Tassis as his 
Volume IJ., in 1686. There isa second 
edition of this second volume, Madrid, 
1641, of which I found a copy in the 
Magliabecchi Library, Florence. In 
1664, a third volume appeared, pre- 
pared by Ventura y Vergara, and in 
1672, Vol. IV., with a letter prefixed 
by himself, and a list of forty-one plays 
published as his, which he repudiates. 
And finally, in 1677, a fifth volume 
was published at Barcelona, of whose 
ten plays he denies four in the Preface 
to the only volume of autos he ever pub- 
lished, but of which four I suppose two 
a el his, notwithstanding his de- 
nial. 

And here the matter rested until after 
Calderon’s death in 1681. Then Vera 
Tassis y Villaroel, who calls himself 
‘*his best friend,” —su mayor amigo, 
—took it up in earnest, not later than 
1682, as we see by the aprovaciones and 
licencias to his publications of the Co- 
medias. At first he seems to have as- 
sumed that the five volumes noted 
above as printed during Calderon’s life 
might be deemed of sufficient authority 
to constitute the foundation of his own 
collection, for he began it in 1683 by 
printing a sixth volume with aprovaci- 
ones, etc., of 1682, and among them the 
famous one of Guerra, 14 April, 1682, 
(see post, Chap. XXIV., note,) which 
he took the trouble to reprint in his 
‘Vol. V., 1694, and which excited a 


long controversy. (See post, Chap. 
XXIV.) This Vol. VI. he followed 
up with Vol. VII. the same year, 1683, 
and with Vol. VIII. in 1684. But he 
now apparently became dissatisfied with 
the five volumes printed earlier by Cal- 
deron’s brother and other persons, and 
in 1685 he published a new Vol. L., 
containing, I think, the plays in that 
of 1635, with their licencia of that date. 
In 1686 he went on with Vol. II., which 
contains the plays in the Vol. II. of 
1637, though in a different order; but 
it should be noted that the ‘‘ Mayor 
Monstruo del Mundo” is now much 
altered and improved. In 1687 he 
continued with Vol. III., saying that 
Ventura de la Vega had indeed already 
published it ‘‘con la vana ostentacion 
de amigo de nuestro Don Pedro,” but 
that his edition was very incorrect, and 
in one play omitted two hundred verses. 
In 1688, he further published Vol. IV., 
and in 1691, Vol. IX., but with aprova- 
ciones of 1682, showing that he had, 
from the first, made arrangements for 
publishing the entire collection of his 
friend’s Comedias. And, finally, in 
1694, he went back again in the series 
and printed a fresh Vol. V., calling it 
“‘La verdadera quinta Parte,” to dis- 
tinguish it from the one Calderon had 
repudiated, and giving in his Preface 
a list of one hundred and twenty-one 
plays rightfully ascribed to Calderon, 
and a list of one hundred and six plays 
falsely ascribed to him. These nine 
volumes, thus irregularly published by 
Vera Tassis between 1683 and 1694 are 
to Calderon what the first folio edition 
of his plays is to Shakespeare ; and to 
eight of the nine in my copy of them 
is prefixed a head of Calderon engraved 
in 1682, by Fossmann, whom Stirling 
regards (p. 1053) as perhaps the best 
engraver of the time of Charles II., and 
whose engraving of Calderon is, I think, 
better, and from a different and more 
agreeable likeness, than that of Eber- 
hard in the Obelisco Funebre, 1684. 
These materials — but above all the 
edition of Vera Tassis — constitute the 
proper foundation for researches respect- 
ing the Comedias of Calderon. A very 
bad reprint of this edition appeared at 
Madrid in 1723 - 1726, in nine volumes, 
and a better one by Apontes, 1760- 


Cuap. XXII] 


CALDERON’S DRAMAS. 


419 


printed by the cupidity of *the booksellers *356 
as Calderon’s, without having any claim what- 
soever to that honor; and he adds, that many 
others, * which Calderon had never seen, were * 357 
sent from Seville to the Spanish possessions in 


America.”2 


By means like these, the confusion became at last so 
great, that the Duke of Veraguas, then the honored 
head of the family of Columbus, and Captain-General 


1763, in eleven volumes, which in its 
turn was eclipsed by a third very care- 
fully prepared by an accomplished Span- 
ish scholar, J. J. Keil, of Leipzig, who 
published it in that city in four large 
octavos in 1827-1830. Occasionally, 
from the earliest times, single plays of 
Calderon have been printed, much like 
the old quartos of Shakespeare, and 
exactly such as were published of all 
the Spanish dramatists down to the 
beginning of the present century, and 
indeed pretty well into it. Selections, 
too, were made by Huerta, Ortega, 
Ochoa, and others. But all this was 
unsatisfactory. 

At last J. E. Hartzenbusch, to whom 
Spanish literature owes much in many 
ways, undertook an edition for Rivade- 
neyra, and published it in the Biblioteca 
de Autores Espafioles (Tom. VII., IX., 
XII., XIV., 1848 —- 1850), leaving noth- 
ing to be asked, if we consider the state 
of the materials for such a work as he 
found them, and not much to be hoped 
from future researches. He gives us 
one hundred and twenty-two Comedias, 
including ten either known to have been 
partly written by Calderon, or believed 
to be so on satisfactory evidence. Nine 
plays, however, which are in Calderon’s 
own list of 1680, still remain to be ac- 


counted for ; but we have now in Hart- © 


zenbusch’s edition four not mentioned 
there, and not in previous collections. 
This is something, but more may per- 
haps yet be discovered, and more cer- 
tainly should be sought for. In ad- 
dition to the Comedias, Hartzenbusch 
gives us fifteen Entremeses, Mojigangas, 
and Jacaras Entremesadas attributed to 
Calderon, I fear on slight authority, 
_ and to which, on authority not. better, 
I could add one more entremes in my 
possession, said, on its title-page, to be 


his work, viz. ‘‘Pelicano y Raton.” 
But all of them have little value, and 
fail to satisfy the expectations excited 
by the Graciosos in his full-length Co- 
medias. I need not add that the edi- 
tion of Hartzenbusch is by far the best 
we have of Calderon’s plays ; — the most 
ample and the most carefully prepared, 
with good prefatory matter and excel- 
lent appendices. 

I hope he will, in the same way, edit 
the autos, which, being the property of 
the city of Madrid under the will of 
their author, were not, for a long time, 
permitted to be published, lest the 
printed copies should impair the effect 
of the annual, popular representations 
in the streets. (Lara, Prologo.) Cal- 
deron, indeed, collected twelve of them 
for publication in his lifetime, and pre- 
pared a preface for them ; but although 
the Aprovacion, Licencia, etc., are dated 
1676, I have never seen any edition 
earlier than the one printed at Madrid, 
1690, which I possess, though, I doubt 
not, there was one of 1677, nor were 
more than these twelve published till 
the edition of 1717 appeared in six vol- 
umes, of which there is a tolerable 
reprint by Apontes, 1759-60. They 
need a good editor, like Hartzenbusch, 
and would well reward his labors. 

23 Probably several more may be 
added to the list of dramas that are 
attributed to Calderon, and yet are not 
his. I have noted ‘‘ El Garrote mas 
bien Dado,” in ‘‘ El Mejor de los me- 
jores Libros de Comedias,” 1653, 4to, 
where it is given with two that are 
genuine ; and ‘‘ El Escandalo de Gre- 
cia,” which is in Comedias Escogidas, 
Tom. XI., 1659, where, at the end of 
the play, (f. 176, b,) it is impudently 
announced as his in the usual form of 
claiming authorship on the Spanish stage. 


490 CALDERON’S DRAMAS. 


[Prertop II. 


of the kingdom of Valencia, wrote a letter to Calderon 
in 1680, asking for a list of his dramas, by which, as a 
friend and admirer, he might venture to make a collec- 
tion of them for himself. The reply of the poet, com- 
plaining bitterly of the conduct of the booksellers, 
which had made such a request necessary, is accom- 
panied by a list of one hundred and eleven full-length 
dramas and seventy sacramental autos, which he claims 
as his own.” This catalogue constitutes the proper 
basis for a knowledge of Calderon’s dramatic works, 
down to the present day. All the plays mentioned in 

it have not, indeed, been found. Nine are not 
*358 in the editions of Vera * Tassis, in 1682, of 

Apontes, in 1760, or of Hartzenbusch, in 1850 ; 
but, on the other hand, a few not in Calderon’s list 
have been added to theirs upon what has seemed sufii- 
cient authority; so that we have now seventy-three 
sacramental autos, with their introductory Joas™ and 
one hundred and eight comedias, or — including plays 
partly his—one hundred and twenty-two, on which 
his reputation as a dramatic poet is at present to rest.” 


24 This correspondence, so honorable 
to Calderon, as well as to the head of 
the family of Columbus, who signs 
himself proudly, £7 Almirante Duque, 
—as Columbus himself had required 
his descendants always to sign them- 
selves, (Navarrete, Tom. II. p. 229,) — 
is to be found in the ‘‘ Obelisco,” and 
again in Huerta, ‘‘Teatro Hespafiol,” 


(Madrid, 1785, 12mo, Parte II. Tom.. 


III.,) and, with additions by Vera Tas- 
sis, Comedias de Calderon, Tom. I., 
1685, and Tom. V., 1694. The com- 
plaints of Calderon about the book- 
sellers are very bitter, as well they might 
be ; for in 1676, in his Preface to his 
autos, he says that their frauds took 
away from the hospitals and other char- 
ities — which yet received only a small 
part of the profits of the theatre — no 
less than twenty-six thousand ducats 
annually. 


25 All the Zoas, however, are not Cal- 
deron’s ; but it is no longer possible to 
determine which are not so. ‘‘Noson 
todas suyas” is the phrase applied to 
them in the Prologo of the edition of 
1717. 

26 Vera Tassis tells us, indeed, in his 
Life of Calderon, that Calderon wrote 
a hundred saynetes, or short farces ; 
about a hundred autos sacramentales ; 
two hundred doas; and more than one 
hundred and twenty comedias. But he 
collected for his edition (1683-1694) 
only the comedias mentioned in the 
text, and thirteen more, intended for 
an additional volume that never was 
printed. See notices of Calderon, by 
F. W. V. Schmidt, in the Wiener Jahr- 
biicher der Literatur, Bande XVII., 
XVIII., and XIX., 1822, to which I 
am much indebted, and which deserve 
to be printed separately, aud preserved. 


Cuar, XXII] CALDERON’S AUTOS. 421 

In examining this large mass of Calderon’s dramatic 
works, it will be most convenient to take first, and by 
themselves, those which are quite distinct from the 
rest, and which alone he thought worthy of his care in 
publication, — his azdos or dramas for the Corpus Christi 
day. Nor are they undeserving of this separate notice. 
There is little in the dramatic literature of -any nation 
more characteristic of the people that produced it than 
this department of the Spanish theatre; and, among 
the many poets who devoted themselves to it, none 
had such success as Calderon. 

Of the early character and condition of the autos, 
and their connection with the Church, we have already 
spoken, when noticing Juan de la Enzina, Gil Vi- 
cente, Lope de Vega, and Valdivielso. They 
*were, from the twelfth and thirteenth cen- * 359 
turies, among the favorite amusements of the 
mass of the people; but with the period at which we 
are now arrived, they had gradually risen to be of 
great importance. That they were spread through 
the whole country, even into the small villages, we 
may see in the Travels of Agustin Roxas,” who played 
them everywhere, and in the Second Part of Don 


Quixote, where the mad 


The above wish, expressed in the first 
edition of this work, in 1849, has been 
more than fulfilled by the following 
publication: ‘* Die Schauspiele Calde- 
ron’s dargestellt und erlautert von Fried. 
Wilh. Val. Schmidt aus gedriickten und 
ungedriickten Papieren des Verfassers 
zusammengesetzt, ergainzt und heraus- 
gegeben von Leopold Schmidt,” Elber- 
field, 1857, 8vo, pp. 548. The editor 
is the son of the author, and seems to 
inherit his father’s taste and learning, 
giving us a work of more value to those 
who wish to make a critical study of 
Calderon, than any other extant. But 
it should be observed, that this impor- 
tant work is almost entirely confined 


knight is represented as 


to a eareful examination of the one 
hundred and eight comedias in the edi- 
tions of Vera Tassis and Apontes; to a 
slight inquiry into the one hundred 
and six plays falsely attributed to Cal- 
deron, of which Vera Tassis gives the 
titles in his Verdadera quinta Parte, 
1694; to.a notice of a few of Calderon’s 
autos; and to such other casual inves- 
tigations as these different subjects sug- 
gest. It is carefully edited, with a few 
judicious notes and additions by the 
son, made in the conscientious spirit 
of the father. 

27 Roxas, Viage Entretenido, 1614, 
ff. 51, 52, and many other places. 


422 CALDERON’S AUTOS. [Perrop Il. 
meeting a car that was carrying the actors for the 
Festival of the Sacrament from one hamlet to an- 
other. This, it will be remembered, was all before 
1615. During the next thirty years, and especially 
during the last portion of Calderon’s life, the number 
and consequence of the autos were much increased, and 
they were represented with great luxury and at great 
expense in the streets of all the larger cities ; — so 
important were they deemed to the influence of the 
clergy, and so attractive had they become to all 
classes of society, — to the noble and the cultivated no 
less than to the multitude.” 

In 1655, when they were at the height of their suc- | 
cess, Aarsens de Somerdyck, an accomplished Dutch 
traveller, gives us an account of them as he. witnessed 
their exhibition at Madrid.” In the forenoon of the 
festival, he says, a procession occurred such as we have 
seen was usual in the time of Lope de Vega, where the 
king and court appeared, without distinction of rank, 
preceded by two fantastic figures of giants, and some- 
times by the grotesque form of the Zuarasca,— one of 
which, we are told, in a pleasant story of Santos, pass- 
ing by night from a place where it had been exhibited 

the preceding day to one where it was to be 
* 360 exhibited the day * following, so alarmed a body 
of muleteers who accidentally met it, that they 
roused up the country, as if a real monster were come 


28 Don Quixote, ed. Pellicer, Parte 
JI. c. 11, with the notes. 

29 In 1640 and 1641, and probably 
in other years, there were four autos 
»represented in the streets of Madrid, 
during the festival of the Corpus Chris- 
ti; and in the last-mentioned year we 
are told that the giants and the tarasca 
had new dresses in good taste. Schack, 
Nachtrige, 1854, pp. 72, 73. 

80 Voyage d’Espagne, Cologne, 1667, 
-18mo, Chap. XVIII., which is very cu- 


rious, with Barbier, Dictionnaire d’ Ano- 
nymes, Paris, 1824, 8vo, No. 19,281. 
The auto which the Dutch traveller saw 
was, no doubt, one of Calderon’s ; since 
Calderon then, and for a long time be- 
fore and after, furnished the autos for 
the city of Madrid. Madame d’Aulnoy 
describes. the same gorgeous procession 
as she saw it in 1679, (Voyage, ed. 
1693, Tom. III. pp. 52-55,) with the 
impertinent auto, as she calls it, that 
was performed that year. 


425 


Cuar. XXI1.] CALDERON'S AUTOS. 


among them to lay waste the land.* These misshapen 
figures and all this strange procession, with music of 
hautboys, tambourines, and castanets, with banners and 
with religious shows, followed the sacrament through 
the streets for some hours, and then returned to the 
principal church, and were dismissed. 

In the afternoon they assembled again and performed 
the autos, on that and many successive days, before the 
houses of the great officers of state, where the audience 
stood either in the balconies and windows that would 
command a view of the exhibition, or else in the streets. 
The giants and the Tarascas were there to make sport 
for the multitude ; the music came, that all might dance 
who chose; torches were added to give effect to the 
scene, though the performance was only by daylight; 
and the king and the royal family enjoyed the exhi- 
bition, sitting in state under a magnificent canopy in 
front of the stage prepared for it at least once near 
the palace. 

As soon as the principal personages were seated, the 
doa was spoken or sung; then came a farcical entremes ; 
afterwards the avo itself; and finally, something by 
way of conclusion that would contribute to the gen- 
eral amusement, like music or dancing. And this was 
continued, in different parts of the city, daily for a 
month, during.which the theatres were shut and the 
regular actors were employed in the streets, in the 
service of the Church.” 


81 La Verdad en el Potro, “Madrid, 
1686, 12mo, pp. 291, 292. The Dutch 
traveller had heard the same story, but 
tells it less well. (Voyage, p. 121.) 


Mas de figuras tardscas 
No hay duda que son féas. 


Ocios de Castalia, 1663, f. 89. 


On the same occasion and on the 


The Tarasca was no doubt excessively 
ugly. Montalvan (Comedias, Madrid, 
4to, 1638, f. 13) alludes to it for its 
monstrous deformity. 

So does Ovando, describing a pro- 
cession in Malaga, in 1655 :— 

Hecha una sierpe salidé 
Una figura tremenda ; — 


same authority, we learn that gypsy 
girls, dancing with tambourines, formed 
a part of the show, —a strange addition 
to a Christian festival. 

8 C. Pellicer, Origen de las Come- 
dias, 1804, Tom. I. p. 258. 


424 CALDERON’S AUTOS. [Pertop IL. 


Of the entertainments of this sort which Calderon 
furnished for Madrid, Toledo, and Seville, he has left, 
as has been said, no less than seventy-three. They are 

all allegorical, and all, by the music and show 
* 361 with which they * abounded, are nearer to operas 

than any other class of dramas then known:in 
Spain; some of them reminding us, by their religious 
extravagance, of the treatment of the gods in the plays 
of Aristophanes, and others, by their spirit and rich- 
ness, of the poetical masques of Ben Jonson. They 
are upon a great variety of subjects, and show, by their 
structure, that elaborate and costly machinery must 
have been used in their representation. That they are 
a most remarkable exhibition of the spirit of the Catho- 
lic religion, on its poetical side, can no more be doubted 
than the fact that they often produced a devout effect 
on the multitudes that thronged to witness their per- 
formance. 

Including the doa that accompanied each, the autos of 
Calderon are nearly or quite as long as the full-length 
plays which he wrote for the secular theatre. Some 
of them indicate their subjects by their titles, like 
“The First and Second Isaac,” “God’s Vineyard,” and 
“Ruth’s Gleanings.” Others, like “The True God 
Pan” and “The First Flower of Carmel,’ give no 
such intimations. All are crowded with shadowy per- 
sonages, such as Sin, Death, Mohammedanism, Juda- 
ism, Justice, Mercy, and Charity; and the uniform 
purpose and end of all is to set forth and glorify 
the doctrine of the Real Presence in the Eucharist. 
The great Enemy of man, of course, fills a large 
space in them,—  Quevedo says too large, adding, 
that, at last, he had grown to be quite a presuming 
and vainglorious personage, coming on the stage 


Cuar. XXII] CALDERON’S AUTOS. 425 


dressed finely, and talking as if the theatre were 
altogether his own.” 

There is necessarily a good deal of sameness in the 
structure of dramas like these; but it is wonderful with 
what ingenuity Calderon has varied his allegories, some- 
times mingling them with the national history, as in 
the case of the two autos on Saint Ferdinand; oftener 
with incidents and stories from Scripture, like “The 
Brazen Serpent” and “The Captivity of the Ark”; and 
always, where he could, seizing any popular occasion to 
produce an effect, as he did after the completion 
of the Escorial * and of the Buen Retiro, and * 362 
after the marriage of the Infanta Maria Teresa ; 
each of which events contributed materials for a sepa- 
rate mito. Almost all of them have passages of striking 
lyrical poetry, as well as gorgeous descriptive passages ; 
and a few, of which “Devotion to the Mass” is the 
chief, make a free use of the old ballads. 

One of the most characteristic of the collection, and 
one that has great poetical merit in separate portions, 
is “ The Divine Orpheus.”* It opens with the entrance 
of a huge black car, in the shape of a boat, which is 
drawn along the street toward the stage where the 
auto is to be acted, and contains the Prince of Dark- 
ness, set forth as a pirate, and Envy, as his steersman ; 
both supposed to be thus navigating through a portion 
of chaos.” They hear, at a distance, sweet music which 


83 Quevedo, Obras, 1791, Tom. I. p. 
386. 

34 It is in the fourth volume of the 
edition printed at Madrid in 1759, and 
in the single volume published in 1690. 

85 Such dramatic representations and 
such cars were occasionally a part of 


other great solemnities besides those 


of the Corpus Christi, which were the 
greatest of all. Thus, at Huesca, in 
1657, after the birth of Don Felipe 
Prospero, a son of Philip IV., who died 


young, among the rejoicings of the city 
was a grand dramatic entertainment, in 
which a vast car appeared, that opened 
into six parts and discovered the new- 
born prince kneeling before the Custo- 
dia that contained the wafer of the 
sacrament, — ‘‘Thus,” says the contem- 
porary account of these shows, ‘‘thus 
intimating that the Princes of the au- 
gust House of Austria are born divinely 
taught to worship the most holy sacra- 
ment.” Relacion de las Fiestas que la 


426 CALDERON’S AUTOS. (Periop II. 


proceeds from another car, advancing from the opposite 
quarter in the form of a celestial globe, covered with 
the signs of the planets and constellations, and con- 
taining Orpheus, who represents allegorically the Cre- 
ator of all things. This is followed by a third car, 
setting forth the terrestrial globe, within which are the 
Seven Days of the Week, and Human Nature, all asleep. 
These cars open, so that the personages they contain 
can come upon the stage and retire back again, as if 
behind the scenes, at their pleasure; the machines 
themselves constituting, in this as in all such representa- 
tions, an important part of the scenic arrangements of 
the exhibition, and, in the popular estimation, not un- 
frequently the most important part.” 

*On their arrival at the stage, the Divine 
Orpheus, with lyrical poetry and music, begins 
the work of creation, using always language borrowed 
from Scripture; and at the suitable moment, as he 
advances, each Day presents itself, roused from its 
ancient sleep and clothed with symbols indicating the 
nature of the work that has been accomplished ; after 
which, Human Nature is, in the same way, summoned 
forth, and appears in the form of a beautiful woman, 
who is the Kurydice of the fable. Pleasure dwells with 
her in Paradise; and, in her exuberant happiness, she 
sings a hymn in honor of her Creator, founded on the 
hundred and thirty-sixth Psalm, the poetical effect of 
which is diminished by an unbecoming scene of allegor- 
ical gallantry that immediately follows between the 
Divine Orpheus himself and Human Nature.” 


* 363 


Ciudad de Huesca, ec., ha hecho al 
Nacimiento del Principe nuestro Sefior 
D. Felipe Prospero. 4to. s. a. pp. 338- 
37. It may be worth notice, that there 
is a finely engraved head of Prince Pros- 
pero, as a child, in an edition of Re- 
bolledo’s ‘*‘Selva Militar y Politica,” 


which was dedicated to the royal babe 
in 1661, when he was about three years 
eld. 

% Such a representation was often 
called ‘‘ fiesta de los earros.” 

8 The autos being founded on a doc- 
trine of the Church, their use of Serip- 


Omar. XXII] CALDERON’S AUTOS. 427 


The temptation and fall succeed; and then the 
graceful Days, which had before always accompanied 
Human Nature and scattered gladness in her path, dis- 
appear one by one, and leave her to her trials and her 
sins. She is overwhelmed with remorse, and, endeavor- 
ing to escape from the consequences of her guilt, is 
conveyed by the bark of Lethe to the realms of the 
Prince of Darkness, who, from his first appearance on 
the scene, has been laboring, with his coadjutor, Envy, 
for this very triumph. But his triumph is short. The 
Divine Orpheus, who has, for some time, represented 
the character of our Saviour, comes upon the stage, 
weeping over the fall, and sings a song of love and 
grief to the accompaniment of a harp made partly in 
the form of a cross; after which, rousing himself in 
his omnipotence, he enters the realms of darkness, 
amidst thunders and earthquakes; overcomes all oppo- 
sition; rescues Human Nature from perdition; places 
her, with the seven redeemed Days of the Week, on a 
fourth car, in the form of a ship, so ornamented as to 
represent the Christian Church and the mystery of the 
Kucharist ; and then, as the gorgeous machine sweeps 
away, the exhibition ends with the shouts of the 
actors in * the drama, accompanied by the an- * 364 
swering shouts of the devout spectators on their 
knees wishing the good ship a good voyage and a happy 
arrival at her destined port.® 


ture and of scriptural allusions is, of 
course, abundant. Perhaps the most 
striking instance of this is in Calderon’s 
‘* Cena de Baltasar,” in Tom. II., 1759. 
88 Allegorical ships were not uncom- 
mon in religious exhibitions. We have 
noticed two such already in Lope’s early 
drama entitled ‘‘ The Soul’s Voyage.” 
(See ante, Chap. XV.) Another, float- 
ing on a sea of silver before the Chapel 
of the Sacrament, in the Cathedral of 
Granada, was exhibited at a festival 


there in November, 1635, — got up in 
consequence of an outrage which had 
been offered to the Holy Sacrament 
four months earlier by a French, heretic, 
and for which it was intended thus to 
atone, — desagraviar ;—the Ship of 
Faith firing broadsides of texts of Scrip- 
ture at Luther, Wiclif, Calvin, and ico- 
lampadius, who were swimming about 
and vainly striving to repeat the out- 
rage. See Descripcion de la grandiosa 
y celebre Fiesta, ec., por D. Pedro de 


A28 POPULARITY OF AUTOS. [Periop II. 


That these Sacramental Acts produced a great effect, 
there can be no doubt. Allegory of all kinds, which. 
from the earliest periods, had been attractive to the 
Spanish people, still continued so to an extraordinary 
degree; and the imposing show of the autos, their 
music, and the fact that they were represented in 
seasons of solemn leisure, at the expense of the govern- 
ment, and with the sanction of the Church, gave them 
claims on the popular favor which were enjoyed by no 
other form of popular amusement. They were writ- 
ten and acted everywhere throughout the country, and 
by all classes of people, because they were everywhere 
demanded. How humble were some of their exhibi- 
tions in the villages and hamlets may be seen from 
Roxas, who gives an account of an auto on the story of 
Cain, in which two actors performed all the parts ;” 
and from Lope de Vega* and Cervantes," who speak 
of autos being written by barbers and acted by shep- 
herds. On the other hand, we know that in Madrid 
no expense was spared to add to their solemnity and 
effect, and that everywhere they had the countenance 
and support of the public authorities. Nor has their 
influence even yet entirely ceased. In 1765, Charles 
the Third forbade their public representation; but the 
popular will and the habits of five centuries could not 

be immediately broken down by a royal decree. 
* 365 Autos, * therefore, or dramatic religious farces 
resembling them, are still heard in some of the 
remote villages of the country; while, in the former 
Araujo Salgado, Granada, 1635, 4to, gave birth to many of them, — perhaps 
ff. 12-15. The well-known Narren- to this one at Granada. 
Schiff of Sebastian Brandt,.familiar in 89 Viage, 1614, ff. 35-37. 
all languages, and in every form that 40 Lope de Vega, Comedias, Tom. IX., 
the press could give it, from its first Barcelona, 1618, f. 183, El Animal de 
appearance, about 1480, down to com- Ungria. 


paratively recent times, belongs to the 41 Don Quixote, Parte I.+c. xii. 
same class of fictions, and no doubt 


Ouar. XXII.] CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. 429 
dependencies of Spain, exhibitions of the same class 
and nature, if not precisely of the same form, have 
never been interfered with.* 


Of full-length rehgious plays and plays of saints Calderon 
wrote, in all, thirteen or fourteen. This was, no doubt, 
necessary to his success; for at one time during his 
career, such plays were much demanded. The death 
of Queen Isabella, in 1644, and of Balthasar, the heir- 
apparent, in 1646, caused a suspension of public repre- 
sentations on the theatres, and revived the question of 
their lawfulness. New rules were prescribed about the 
number of actors and their costumes, and an attempt 
was made even to drive from the theatre all plays in- 


42 Doblado’s Letters, 1822, pp. 296, 
301, 803-3809; Madame Calderon’s 
Life in Mexico, London, 1843, Letters 
38 and 39; and Thompson’s Recollec- 
tions of Mexico, New York, 1846, 8vo, 
chap. 11. How much the autos were 
valued to the last, even by respectable 
ecclesiastics, may be inferred from the 
grave admiration bestowed on them by 
Martin Panzano, chaplain to the Span- 
ish embassy at Turin, in his Latin 
treatise, ‘‘ De Hispanorum Literatura,”’ 
(Mantux, 1759, folio,) intended as a 
defence of his country’s literary claims, 
in which, speaking of the autos of Cal- 
deron, only a few years before they were 
forbidden, he says they were dramas, 
‘*in quibus neque in inveniendo acu- 
men, nec in disponendo ratio, neque in 
ornando aut venustas, aut nitor, aut 
majestas desiderantur.” — p. Ixxv. 

Even in Germany, genuine ‘‘ miracle- 
plays” have not wholly disappeared, as 
we have seen they had not in France in 
1805. (See ante, Period I. Chap. XIII. 
note 3.) Thus, once in ten years, if 
not oftener, at Oberammergau, in Ba- 
varia, a ‘‘ Passions-schauspiel,”’ begin- 
ning with the entrance of the Saviour 
into Jerusalem, and ending with his 
resurrection, is acted in fulfilment of a 
vow made there during a pestilence in 
1633. I have the etghth edition of the 
poetical parts of this singular play, 
printed at Munich in 1850, and an ac- 


count of the representation of it, which 
occurred thirteen times in the course of 
that year, published at Leipzig in 1851, 
by Eduard Devrient, 4to, pp. 48, with 
plates to illustrate it just as it appeared, 
acted in the open air, and another vol- 
ume of documents about it by M. Van 
Deutinger, Miinchen, 1851. The whole 
leaves no doubt that this extraordinary 
exhibition, at which six thousand per- 
sons are sometimes present, is made in 
the religious spirit of the Middle Ages ; 
all the people in the village where it 
occurs taking part in the show, or in 
the preparations for it. The principal 
drama is broken into scenes by twenty- 
eight tableaux, in pantomime, of events 
from the Old Testament, and is among 
the most wild and strange relics of the 
Theatre of the Middle Ages that have 
come down to our times. The wonder 
is that it has reached us, not embalmed 
as a literary curiosity, but as a living 
interest of living men, educated in a 
wholly different state of the world from 
the one that originally produced it, and 
to which alone it seems fitted. Pe- 
cuniary profit, however, is, no doubt, 
one of the main-springs of its contin- 
ued success. It forms a large interest 
in an English novel entitled ‘‘ Quits,” 
written by an English lady married 
in Bavaria, who must have witnessed 
it in order to have described it se 
well, 


430 CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. [Penton II. 


volving the passion of love. and especially all 
* 366 the plays of *Lope de Vega. This irritable 

state of things continued till 1649. But noth- 
ing of consequence followed. The regulations that 
were made were not executed in the spirit in which 
they were conceived. Many plays were announced 
and acted as religious which had no claim whatever to 
the title ; and others, religious in their external frame- 
work, were filled up with an intriguing love-plot, as 
free as anything in the secular drama had been. In- 
deed, there can be no doubt that the attempts thus 
made to constrain the theatre were successfully opposed 
or evaded, especially by private representations in the 
houses of the nobility ;* and that, when these attempts 
were given up, the drama, with all its old attributes 
and attractions, broke forth with a greater extrava- 
gance of popularity than ever;“*—a fact apparent 
from the crowd of dramatists that became famous, and 
from the circumstance that so many of the clergy, like 
Tarrega, Mira de Mescua, Montalvan, Tirso de Molina, 
and Calderon, to say nothing of Lope de Vega, who 


43 These representations in private 
houses had long been common. Bisbe 
y Vidal (Tratado, 1618, c. 18) speaks 
of them as familiar in Barcelona, and 
treats them, in his otherwise severe at- 
tack on the theatre, with a gentleness 
that shows he recognized their influence. 

44 It is not easy to make out how 
much the theatre was really interfered 
with during these four or five years ; 
but the dramatic writers seem to have 
felt themselves constrained in their 
course, more or less, for a part of that 
time, if not the whole of it. The ac- 
counts are to be found in Casiano Pel- 
licer, Origen, etc., de la Comedia, Tom. 
I. pp. 216-222, and Tom. II. p. 135; 
—a work important, but ill digested. 
Conde, the historian, once told me that 
its materials were furnished chiefly by 
the author’s father, the learned editor 
of Don Quixote, and that the son did 
not know how to put them together. 


A few hints and facts on the subject of 
the secular drama of this period may 
also be found in Ulloa y Pereira’s de- 
fence of it, written apparently to meet 
the troubles of 1644-1650, but not 
published until 1659, 4to. He con- 
tends that there was never any serious 
purpose to break up the theatre, and 
that even Philip II. meant only to reg- 
ulate, not to suppress it. (p. 348.) 
Don Luis Crespé de Borja, Bishop of 
Orihuela and ambassador of Philip IV. 
at Rome, who had previously favored 
the theatre, made, in Lent, 1646, an 
attack on it in a sermon, which, when 
published three years afterwards, ex- 
cited a considerable sensation, and was 
answered by Andres de Avila y Here- 
dia, el Sefior de la Garena, and sus- 
tained by Padre Ignacio Camargo. But 
nothing of this sort much hindered or 
helped the progress of the drama in 
Spain. 


Cuar. XXII.] CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. 431 


was particularly exact in his duties as a priest, were all 
successful writers for the stage.” 3 
* Of the religious plays of Calderon, one of * 367 
the most remarkable is “The Purgatory of Saint 
Patrick.” It is founded on the little volume by Mon- 
talvan, already referred to, in which the old traditions 
of an entrance into Purgatory from a cave in an island 
off the coast of Ireland, or in Ireland itself, are united 
to the fictitious history of Ludovico Enio, a Spaniard, 
who, except that he is converted by Saint Patrick and 
“makes a good ending,” is no better than another Don 
Juan.*® The strange play in which these are principal 
figures opens with a shipwreck. Saint Patrick and the 
godless Enio drift ashore and find themselves in Ire- 
land,— the sinner being saved from drowning by the 
vigorous exertions of the saint. The king of the coun- 
try, who immediately appears on the stage, is an atheist, 
furious against Christianity ; and after an exhibition, 
which is not without poetry, of the horrors of savage 
heathendom, Saint Patrick is sent as a slave into the 
interior of the island, to work for this brutal master. 


45 The clergy writing loose and im- 
moral plays is only one exemplification 
of the unsound state of society so often 
set forth in Madame d’Aulnoy’s Travels 
in Spain, in 1679-80 ;—a curious and 
amusing book, which sometimes throws 
a strong light on the nature of the re- 
ligious spirit that so frequently sur- 
prises us in Spanish literature. Thus, 
when she is giving an account of the 
constant use made of the rosary or 
chaplet of beads, —a well-known pas- 
sion in Spain, connected, perhaps, with 
the Mohammedan origin of the rosary, 
of which the Christian rosary was made 
a rival, —she says, ‘‘They are going 
over their beads constantly when they 
are in the streets, and in conversation ; 
when they are playing ombre, making 
love, telling lies, or talking scandal. 
In short, they are forever muttering 
over their chaplets; and even in the 
most ceremonious society it goes on just 


the same ; how devoutly you may guess, 
But custom is very potent in this coun- 
try.” Ed. 1693, Tom. II. p. 124. 

46 The ‘‘ Vida y Purgatorio del Glori- 
oso San Patricio,” (1627,) of which I 
have a copy, (Madrid, 1739, 18mo,) was 
long a popular book of devotion, both 
in Spanish and in French. That Cal- 
deron used it is obvious throughout his 
play. Wright, however, in his pleasant 
work on St. Patrick’s Purgatory, (Lon- 
don, 1844, 12mo, pp. 156-159,) sup- 
poses that the French book of devotion 
was made up chiefly from Calderon’s 
play ; whereas they resemble each other 
only because both were taken from the 
Spanish prose work of Montalvan. See 
ante, p. 314. Enio, under different 
names, is known to the old monkish 
accounts of St. Patrick, from the twelfth 
century ; but it is Montalvan and Cal- 
deron who have made him the personage 
we now recognize. 


432 CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. [Penton II. 


The first act ends with his arrival at his destination, 
where, in the open fields, after a fervent prayer, he 
is comforted by an angel, and warned of the will of 
Heaven, that he should convert his oppressors. 

Before the second act opens, three years elapse, dur- 
ing which Saint Patrick has visited Rome and been 
regularly commissioned for his great work in Ireland, 
where he now appears, ready to undertake it. He im- 
mediately performs miracles of all kinds, and, among 
the’ rest, raises the dead before the audience; but still 
the old heathen king refuses to be converted, unless 

the very Purgatory, Hell, and Paradise preached 
* 368 to him are made sure to the *senses of some 

well-known witness. This, therefore, is divinely 
vouchsafed to the intercession of Saint Patrick. A com- 
munication with the unseen world is opened through a 
dark and frightful cave. Hnio, the godless Spaniard, 
already converted by an alarming vision, enters it and 
witnesses its dread secrets; after which he returns, 
and effects the conversion of the king and court by a 
long description of what he had seen. This, however, 
is the only catastrophe to the play. 

Besides its religious story, the Purgatory of Saint 
Patrick has a love-plot, such as might become the 
most secular drama, and a gracioso as rude and free- 
spoken as the rudest of his class.” But the whole 
was intended to produce what was then regarded as 
a religious effect; and there is no reason to suppose 
that it failed of its purpose. There is, however, much 


47 When Enio determines to adven- Or, if the matter i to goblins Bee 
Pas 3 I think my wife will prove enough of one 
ture into the cave of Purgatory, he Vor wy paeeian 


gravely urges his servant, who is the Comedias, 1760, Tom. II. p. 264. 


gracioso of the piece, to go with him ; There : 
F A. a ere is, however, a good deal that is 

to which the servant replice, solemn in this wild drama. Enio, when 

T never heard before that any man he goes to the infernal world, talks, in 


Took lackey with him when he went to hell! Bar ate es ; 
No, — to my native village will I haste, the spirit of Dante himself, of 


Where I can live in something like content ; Treading on the very ghosts of men. 


Cuar. XXII.] CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. 433 


in it that would be unseemly under any system of 
faith; some wearying metaphysics; and two speeches 
of Enio’s, each above three hundred lines long, — the 
first an account of his shameful life before his conver- 
sion, and the last a narrative of all he had witnessed 
in the cave, absurdly citing for its truth fourteen or 
fifteen obscure monkish authorities, all of which belong 
to a period subsequent to his own.* Such as it is, 
however, the Purgatory of Saint Patrick is commonly 
ranked among the best religious plays of the Spanish 
theatre in the seventeenth century. 

It is, indeed, on many accounts, less offensive than 
the more famous drama, “Devotion to the Cross,” 
printed in 1655, which is founded on the adventures 
of a man who, though his life is a tissue of gross and 
atrocious crimes, is yet made an object of the especial 
favor of God, because he shows a uniform exter- 
nal * reverence for whatever has the form of a 
cross; and who, dying in a ruffian brawl, as a 
robber, is yet, in consequence of this devotion to the 
cross, miraculously restored to life, that he may confess 
his sins, be absolved, and then be transported directly 
to heaven. The whole seems to be absolutely an in- 
vention of Calderon, and, from the fervent poetical tone 
of some of its devotional passages, it has always been 
a favorite in Spain, and, what is yet more remarkable, 
has found ardent admirers in Protestant Christendom.” 


* 369 


48 See chapters 4 and 6 of Montal- 
van’s ‘‘ Patricio.” 

49 It is beautifully translated by A. 
W. Schlegel, — the first play in his col- 
lection of 1803, — preserving rigorously 
the measures and manner of the origi- 
nal, and following its asonantes as well 
as its rhymes. All the translations of 
Schlegel from the Spanish theatre are 
worth reading. The amplest edition 
of them is the one in two vols., 12mo, 
Leipzig, 1845, containing fragments of 


VOL. II. 28 


the ‘‘Cabellos de Absalon” and ‘* Las 
Amazonas” of Calderon, and of the 
‘*Numancia” of Cervantes. A drama 
of Tirso de Molina, ‘‘ El Condenado por 
Desconfiado,” goes still more profoundly 
into the peculiar religious faith of the 
age, and may well be compared with 
the ‘‘Devocion de la Cruz,” which it 
preceded in time, and perhaps surpasses 
in poetical merit. It represents a rev- 
erend hermit, Paulo, as losing the favor 
of God, simply from want of trust in 


434 


CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS.  [Periop II. 


“The Wonder-working Magician,’ founded on the 
story of Saint Cyprian,—the same legend on which 
Milman has founded his “ Martyr of Antioch,” 
however, more attractive than either of the dramas 
just mentioned, and, like “ El Joseph de las Mugeres,” 
reminds us of Goethe’s “ Faust.” It opens— after one 
of those gorgeous descriptions of natural scenery in 
which Calderon loves to indulge — with an account 
by Cyprian, still unconverted, of his retirement, on a 
day devoted to the service of Jupiter, from the bustle 
and confusion of the city of Antioch, in order to spend 
the time in inquiries concerning the existence of One 
Supreme Deity. As he seems likely to arrive at con- 
clusions not far from the truth, Satan, to whom such a 
result would be particularly unwelcome, breaks in upon 
his studies, and, in the dress of a fine gentleman, an- 
nounces himself to be a man of learning, who has acci- 
dentally lost his way. In imitation of a fashion not 
rare among scholars at European universities in the 
poet’s time, this personage offers to hold a dispute with 
Cyprian on any subject whatever. Cyprian naturally 

chooses the one that then troubled his thoughts; 
* 370 *and after a long, logical discussion, according 

to the discipline of the schools, obtains a clear 
victory, — though not without feeling enough of his 
adversary’s power and genius to express a sincere 
admiration for both. The evil spirit, however, though 
defeated, is not discouraged, and goes away, Geter: 
mined to try the power of temptation. 


it ; while Enrico, a robber and assassin, 
obtains that favor by an exercise of 
faith and trust at the last moment of a 
life which had been filled with the most 
revolting crimes. Satan complains, I 
think, very justly of this state of the 
case in a play of Malaspina, (La Fuerza 
de la Verdad, Jorn. I.,) where he says, 


that the rebellious angels were thrust 
down to perdition for a single offence 
without any power to regain, by peni- 
tence, their lost places in heaven, while 
man, though he make a god of his 
sins, can, at last, recover the Divine 
favor by a sigh or a few tears. 


Cuar. XXII.] CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. 435 


For this purpose he brings upon the stage Lelius, 
son of the governor of Antioch, and Florus, — both 
friends of Cyprian,— who come to fight a duel, near 
the place of his present retirement, concerning a fair 
lady named Justina, against whose gentle innocence 
the Spirit of all Evil is particularly incensed. Cyprian 
interferes; the parties refer their quarrel to him; he 
visits Justina, who is secretly a Christian, and supposes 
herself to be the daughter of a Christian priest; but, 
unhappily, Cyprian, instead of executing his commis- 
sion, falls desperately in love with her; while, in 
order to make out the running parody on the prin- 
cipal action, common in Spanish plays, the two lackeys 
of Cyprian are both found to be in love with Justina’s 
maid. 

Now, of course, begins the complication of a truly 
Spanish intrigue, for which all that precedes it is only 
a preparation. That same night Lelius and Florus, the 
two original rivals for the love of Justina, who favors 
neither of them, come separately before her window 
to offer her a serenade, and while there, Satan deceives 
them both into a confident belief that the lady is dis- 
gracefully attached to some other person; for he him- 
self, in the guise of a gallant, descends from her bal- 
cony, before their eyes, by a rope-ladder, and, having 
reached the bottom, sinks into the ground between the 
two. As they did not see each other till after his dis- 
appearance, though both had seen him, each takes the 
other to be this favored rival, and a duel ensues on the 
spot. Cyprian again opportunely interferes, but, hav- 
ing understood nothing of the vision or the rope-ladder, 
is astonished to find that both renounce Justina as no 
longer worthy their regard. And thus ends the first 
act. 


436 CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS.  [Penriop II. 


In the two other acts, Satan is still a busy, bustling 
personage. He appears in different forms; first, 
* 371 as if *just escaped from shipwreck; and after- 
wards, as a fashionable gallant; but uniformly 
for mischief. The Christians, meantime, through his 
influence, are persecuted. Cyprian’s love grows des- 
perate; and he sells his soul to the Spirit of Evil for 
the possession of Justina. The temptation of the fair 
Christian maiden is then carried on in all possible ways ; 
especially in a beautiful lyrical allegory, where all 
things about her—the birds, the flowers, the balmy 
air — are made to solicit her to love with gentle and 
winning voices. But in every way the temptation 
fails. Satan’s utmost power is defied and defeated by 
the mere spirit of innocence. Cyprian, too, yields, and 
becomes a Christian, and with Justina is immediately 
brought before the governor, already exasperated by 
discovering that his own son is a lover of the fair con- 
vert. Both are ordered to instant execution; the buf- 
foon servants make many poor jests on the occasion ; 
and the piece ends by the appearance on a dragon 
of Satan himself, who is compelled to confess the 
power of the Supreme Deity, which in the first scenes 
he had denied, and to proclaim, amidst thunder and 
earthquakes, that Cyprian and Justina are already 
enjoying the happiness won by their glorious martyr- 
dom.” 
Few pieces contain more that is characteristic of the 
old Spanish stage than this one; and fewer still show 
so plainly how the civil restraints laid on the theatre 


5° An interesting, but somewhat too vom wunderthitigen Magus.” Beauti- 
metaphysical, discussion of this play, ful translations of some scenes from it 
with prefatory remarks on the general were first published in Shelley’s Post- 
merits of Calderon, by Karl Rosenkranz, humous Poems, London, 8vo, 1824, 
appeared at Leipzig in 1829, (12mo,) pp. 862-392. 
entitled, ‘‘Ueber Calderon’s Tragédie 


Cuap. XXII.] 


CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS. 


437 


were evaded, and the Church was conciliated, while 
the popular audiences lost nothing of the forbidden 
amusement to which they had been long accustomed 
from the secular drama.” Of such plays Calde- 

ron wrote fifteen, if we include *in the number * 372 
his “ Aurora in Copacobana,” which is on the 

conquest and conversion of the Indians in Peru; and 
his “ Origin, Loss, and Recovery of the Virgin of the 


51 How completely a light, worldly 
tone was taken in these plays may be 
seen in the following words of the Ma- 
donna, when she personally gives St. 
Ildefonso a rich vestment, — the chasu- 
ble, —in which he is to say mass : — 
Receive this robe, that, at my holy feast, 

Thou mayst be seen as such a gallant should be. 


My taste must be consulted in thy dress, 
Like that of any other famous lady. 


Comedias, 1760, Tom. VI. p. 118. 


The lightness of tone in this passage is 
the more remarkable, because the mira- 
cle alluded to in it is the crowning 
glory of the great cathedral of Toledo, 
on which volumes have been written, 
and on which Murillo has painted one 
of his greatest and most solemn pictures, 
while a little earlier, Fray Juan Sanchez 
Cotan received, as he claimed, the honor 
of a sitting from the Madonna herself, 
when he was engaged in representing 
the same miraculous scene. Stirling’s 
Artists, 1848, Vol. I. p. 439, Vol. II. 
p. 915. 

Figueroa (Pasagero, 1617, ff. 104- 
106) says, with much truth, in the 
midst of his severe remarks on the 
drama of his time, that the comedias 
de santos were so constructed, that the 
first act contained the youth of the 
saint, with his follies and love-adven- 
tures ; the second, his conversion and 
subsequent life ; and the third his mira- 
cles and death ; but that they often had 
loose and immoral stories to render 
them attractive. They were, however, 
of all varieties ; and it is curious, in 
such a collection of dramas as the one 
in forty-eight volumes, extending over 
the period from 1652 to 1704, to mark 
in how many ways the theatre endeav- 
ored to conciliate the Church ; some of 
the plays being filled entirely with 
saints, demons, angels, and allegorical 
personages, and deserving the character 


given to the ‘‘ Fenix de Espafia,” (Tom. 
XLIII., 1678,) of being sermons in the 
shape of plays; while others are mere 
intriguing comedies, with an angel or 
a saint put in to consecrate their im- 
moralities, like “La Defensora de la 
Reyna de Ungria,” by Fernando de 
Zarate, in Tom. XXIX., 1668.° 

In other countries of Christendom 
besides those in which the Church of 
Rome bears sway, this sort of irrever- 
ence in relation to things divine has 
more or less shown itself among per- 
sons accounting themselves religious. 
The Puritans of England in the days 
of Cromwell, from their belief in the con- 
stant interference of Providence about 
their affairs, sometimes addressed sup- 
plications to God in a spirit not more 
truly devout than that shown by the 
Spaniards in their autos and their co- 
medias de santos. Both felt themselves 
to be peculiarly regarded of Heaven, 
and entitled to make the most peremp- 
tory claims on the Divine favor and 
the most free allusions to what they 
deemed holy. But no people ever felt 
themselves to be so absolutely soldiers 
of the cross as the Spaniards did, from 
the time of their Moorish wars; no 
people ever trusted so constantly to 
the recurrence of miracles in the affairs 
of their daily life; and therefore no 
people ever talked of divine things as 
of matters in their nature so familiar 
and commonplace. Traces of this state 
of feeling and character are to be found 
in Spanish literature on all sides. See 
Calderon’s auto ‘* No ay instante sin 
milagro.” 

52 The remarks of Malsburg on this 
play are well worth reading. They are 
in the Preface to his translations from 
Calderon, Leipzig, 1821, Vol. IV. He 
cites passages on the subject of the play 
from the Inca Garcilasso to illustrate it. 


438 CALDERON’S RELIGIOUS COMEDIAS.  [Peniop II. 


Reliquary,’” —a strange collection of legends, extend- 
ing over above four centuries, full of the spirit of the 
old ballads, and relating to an image of the Madonna 
still devoutly worshipped in the great cathedral at 
Toledo. 


POH AY Bees SL Ty Sit 3 


CALDERON, CONTINUED. —HIS SECULAR PLAYS. — DIFFICULTY OF CLASSIFYING 
THEM.— THEIR PRINCIPAL INTEREST.— NATURE OF THEIR PLOTS. — LOVE 
SURVIVES LIFE. — PHYSICIAN OF HIS OWN HONOR. — PAINTER OF HIS OWN 
DISHONOR. — NO MONSTER LIKE JEALOUSY. — FIRM-HEARTED PRINCE. . 


Passine from the religious plays of Calderon to the 
secular, we at once encounter an embarrassment which 
we have already felt in other cases, — that of dividing 
them all into distinct and appropriate classes. It is 
even difficult to determine, in every instance, whether 
the piece we are considering belongs to one of the 
religious subdivisions of his dramas or not; since the 
“ Wonder-working Magician,” for instance, is hardly 
less an intriguing play than “ First of all my Lady”; 
and “Aurora in Copacobana” is as full of spiritual 
personages and miracles, as if it were not, in the main, 
a love-story. But, even after setting this difficulty 
aside, as we have done, by examining separately all 
the dramas of Calderon that can, in any way, be ac- 
counted religious, it is not possible to make a definite 
classification of the remainder. 

Some of them, such as “ Nothing like Silence,” are 
absolutely intriguing comedies, and belong strictly to 
the school of the capa y espada ; others, like “ A Friend 
Loving and Loyal,” are purely heroic, both in their 
structure and their tone; and a few others, such as 
“ Love survives Life,” and “The Physician of his own 
Honor,” belong to the most terrible inspirations of 
genuine tragedy. Twice, in a different direction, we 


440 CALDERON’S SECULAR COMEDIAS. [Penton II. 


have operas, which are yet nothing but plays in 
* 374 the national taste, with music added;* *and 

once we have a burlesque drama,— “ Cepha- 
lus and Procris,’—in which, using the language 
of the populace, Calderon parodies an earlier and suc- 
cessful performance of his own. But, in the great 
majority of cases, the boundaries of no class are re- 
spected ; and in many of them even more than two 
forms of the drama melt imperceptibly into each 
other. Especially in those pieces whose subjects are 
taken from known history, sacred or profane, or from 
the recognized fictions of mythology or romance, there 
is frequently a confusion that seems as though it were 
intended to set all classification at defiance. 

Still, in this confusion there was a principle of order, 
and perhaps even a dramatic theory. For —if we ex- 
cept “Luis Perez the Galician,” which is a series of 
sketches to bring out the character of a notorious rob- 
ber, and a few show pieces, presented on particular 
occasions to the court with great magnificence — all 
Calderon’s full-length dramas depend for their success 


1 «* Ta Purpura de la Rosa,” and ‘‘ Las 
Fortunas de Andromeda y Perseo,” are 
both of them plays in the national taste, 
and yet were sung throughout. The 
last is taken from Ovid’s Metamor- 
phoses, Lib. IV. and V., and was pro- 
duced before the court with a magnifi- 
cent theatrical apparatus. The first, 
which was written in honor of the mar- 
riage of Louis XIV. with the Infanta 
Maria Teresa, 1660, was also taken from 
Ovid, (Met., Lib. X.); and in the loa 
that precedes it we are told expressly, 
‘‘The play is to be wholly in music, 
and is Intended to introduce this style 
among us, that other nations may see 
they have competitors for those distine- 
tions of which they boast.” Operas in 
Spain, however, never had any perma- 
nent suecess, though they had in Por- 
tugal. But music was often introduced 
into Spanish dramas, especially Cal- 
deron’s. 


2 « Zelos aun del Ayre matan,” which 
Calderon parodied, is on the same 
subject with his ‘‘Cephalus and Pro- 
cris,” to which he added, not very 
appropriately, the story of Erostra- 
tus and the burning of the temple of 
Diana. a 

3 For instance, the ‘‘ Armas de la 
Hermosura,” on the story of Coriola- 
nus; and the ‘‘ Mayor Encanto Amor,” 
on the story of Ulysses. 

Four times, it should be observed, 
Calderon varied in his Comedias from 
the full-length measure of three Jorna- 
das ; viz. in the ‘‘ Purpura de la Rosa,” 
where he made the first attempt in 
Opera, and the ‘‘ Golfo de la Sirenas,” 
which is a sort of Piscatory Eelogue, 
each of them having only one Jornada ; 
and in the *‘ Laurel de Apolo,” and the 
‘* Jardin de Falerina,”’ which have only 
two. 


Cnap. XXIII.] CALDERON’S SECULAR COMEDIAS. 


441 


on the interest excited by an involved plot, constructed 
out of surprising incidents.t He avows this himself; 
when he declares one of them to be — 


The most surprising tale 
Which, in the dramas of Castile, a wit 
Acute hath yet traced out, and on the stage 
With tasteful skill produced. 


* 370 


* And again, where he says of another, — 
This is a play of Pedro Calderon, 
Upon whose scene you never fail to find 
A hidden lover or a lady fair 
Most cunningly disguised.® 

But to this principle of making a story which shall 
sustain an eager interest throughout Calderon has sac- 
rificed almost as much as Lope de Vega did. The 
facts of history and geography are not felt for a mo- 
ment as limits or obstacles. Coriolanus is a general 
who has served under Romulus; and Veturia, his wife, 
is one of the ravished Sabines.’ The Danube, which 
must have been almost as well known to a Madrid 
audience from the time of Charles the Fifth as the 
Tagus, is placed between Russia and Sweden’ Jeru- 
salem is on the sea-coast.? Herodotus is made to de- 
scribe America.” 

How absurd all this was Calderon knew as well as 
anybody. Once, indeed, he makes a jest of it all; for 
one of his ancient Roman clowns, who is about to tell 
a story, begins, — 


A friar, — but that’s not right, — there are no friars 
As yet in Rome.!! 


* Calderon was famous for what are 
called coups de thédtre ; so famous, that 
lances de Calderon became a sort of 
proverb. 

5 La novela mas notable 
Que en Castellanas comedias, 
Sutil el ingenio traza 
Y gustoso representa. 
E] Alcayde de si Mismo, Jorn. II. 
6 No hay Burlas con el Amor, Jorn. IT. 
7 Armas de la Hermosura, Jorn. I., 


Il. 


8 Afectos de Odio y Amor, Jorn, II. 

9 El Mayor Monstruo los Zelos, Jorn. 
III. 

10 La Virgen del Sagrario, Jorn. I. 
The pious bishop who is here repre- 
sented as talking of America, on the 
authority of Herodotus, is at the same 
time supposed to live seven or eight 
centuries before America was discovered. 

11 Un frayle,— mas no es bueno, — 


Porque aun no ay en Roma frayles. 
Los Dos Amantes del Cielo, Jorn. III. 


4g CALDERON’S SECULAR COMEDIAS.  [Pznrop IL. 
. 


Nor is the preservation of national or individual 
character, except perhaps the Moorish, a matter of 
any more moment in his eyes. Ulysses and Circe sit 
down, as if in a saloon at Madrid, and, gathering an 
academy of cavaliers and ladies about them, discuss 
questions of metaphysical gallantry. Saimt Eugenia 
does the same thing at Alexandria in the third cen- 
tury. And Judas Maccabeeus, Herod the Tetrarch of 
Judea, Jupangui the Inca of Peru, and Zenobia, are 

all,in their general air, as much Spaniards of 
*376 the time of Philip the Fourth, as if * they had 

never lived anywhere except at his court.” 
But we rarely miss the interest and charm of a dra- 
matic story, sustained by a rich and flowing versifica- 
tion, and by long narrative passages, in which the 
most ingenious turns of phraseology are employed in 
order to provoke curiosity and enchain attention. 

No doubt, this is not the dramatic interest to which 
we are most accustomed, and which we most value. 
But still it is a dramatic interest, and dramatic effects 
are produced by it. We are not to judge Calderon by 
the example of Shakespeare, any more than we are to 
judge Shakespeare by the example of Sophocles. The 
“Arabian Nights” are not the less brilliant because 
the admirable practical fictions of Miss Edgeworth are 
so different. The gallant audiences of Madrid still 
give the full measure of an intelligent admiration to 
the dramas of Calderon, as their fathers did ; and even 
the poor Alguacil, who sat as a guard of ceremony 
on the stage while the “Nina de Gomez Arias” was 
acting, was so deluded by the cunning of the scene, 
that, when a noble Spanish lady was dragged forward 


re El] Mayor Encanto Amor, Jorn. II.; El Joseph de las Mugeres, Jorn. III, 
etc. 


Cuap. XXIII.] AMAR DESPUES DE LA MUERTE. 443 


to be sold to the Moors, he sprang, sword in hand, 
among the performers to prevent it.° It is in vain to 
say that dramas which produce such effects are not 
dramatic. The testimony of two centuries and of a 
whole nation proves the contrary. 

Admitting, then, that the plays of Calderon are 
really dramas, and that their basis is to be sought in 
the structure of their plots, we can examine them in 
the spirit, at least, in which they were originally 
written. And if, while thus inquiring into their char- 
acter and merits, we fix our attention on the different 
degrees in which love, jealousy, and a lofty and sensi- 
tive honor and loyalty enter into their composition and - 
give life and movement to their respective actions, we 
shall hardly fail to form a right estimate of what Cal- 
deron did for the Spanish secular theatre in its highest 
departments. 

- * Under the first head,— that of the passion * 377 
of love, —one of the most prominent of Cal- 

deron’s plays occurs early in the collection of his 
works, and is entitled “Love survives Life.’ It is 
founded on events that happened in the rebellion of 
the Moors of Granada which broke out in 1568, and 
though some passages in it bear traces of the history 
of Mendoza,“ yet it is mainly taken from the half-fan- 
ciful, half-serious narrative of Hita, where its chief 
details are recorded as unquestionable facts.” The 


18 Huerta, Teatro Hespafiol, Parte IT. 
Tom. I., Prologo, p. vii. La Nifia de 
Gomez Arias, Jorn. III. ; —a play for 
which Calderon owed much to Luis 
Velez de Guevara. 

14 Compare the eloquent speeches of 
El Zaguer, in Mendoza, ed. 1776, Lib. 
I. p. 29, and Malec, in Calderon, Jorn. 
I. > or the description of the Alpujarras, 
in the same jornada, with that of Men- 
doza, p. 43,, ete. 


15 The story of Tuzani is found in 
Chapters XXII., XXIII., and XXIV. 
of the second volume of Hita’s ‘* Guer- 
ras de Granada,” and is the best part 
of it. Hita says he had the account 
from Tuzani himself, long afterwards, 
at Madrid, and it is not unlikely that 
a great part of it is true. Calderon, 
though sometimes using its very words, . 
makes considerable alterations in it, to 
bring it within the forms of the drama ; 


444 


AMAR DESPUES DE LA MUERTE. _ [Perron IL. 
action occupies about five years, beginning three 
years before the absolute outbreak of the insurgents, 
and ending with their final overthrow. 

The first act passes in the city of Granada, and 
explains the intention of the conspirators to throw off 
the Spanish yoke, which had become intolerable. Tu- 
zani, the hero, is quickly brought to the foreground of 
the piece by his attachment to Clara Malec, whose 
aged father, dishonored by a: blow from a Spaniard, 
causes the rebellion to break out somewhat prema- 
turely. Tuzani at once seeks the haughty offender. 
A duel follows, and is described with great spirit; but 
it is interrupted,” and the parties separate to renew 
their quarrel on a bloodier theatre. 

The second act opens three years afterwards, in the 

mountains south of Granada, where the insur- 
*378 gents are * strongly posted, and where they are 

attacked by Don John of Austria, represented 
as coming fresh from the great victory at Lepanto, 
which yet happened, as Calderon and his audience 
well knew, a year after this rebellion was quelled. 
The marriage of Tuzani and Clara is hardly celebrated, 
when he is hurried away from her by one of the 
chances of war; the fortress where the ceremonies had 
taken place falling suddenly into the hands of the 


tled, ‘‘De Poeseos Dramatice genere 
Hispanico, preesertim de Petro Calde- 
rone de la Barca” (Hafnie, 1817, 12mo, 
pp. 158). Its author, Joannes Ludovi- 


but the leading facts are the same in 
both cases, and the story belongs to 
Hita. 

16 ‘While they are fighting in a room, 


with locked doors, suddenly there is a 
great bustle and calling without. Men- 
doza, the Spaniard, asks his adversary : 


What ’s to be done? 
Tuzani. First let one fall, and the survivor then 
May open straight the doors. 
Well said. 


Mendoza. 

The spirited opening of many of Cal- 
deron’s plays is noticed, as it may be 
observed here, in a well-considered Lat- 
‘in Essay on his poetical merits, enti- 


cus Heiberg, who was then only twenty- 
six years old, has since been a distin- 
guished Danish poet and dramatist, as 
his father had been before him. He 
regards the two great characteristics of 
Calderon to have been his nationality 
and his romantic spirit, and, under the 
impulse of these attributes, he adds, as 
his final conclusion: ‘‘ Drama Calde- 
ronicum est Drama Hispanicum gentile 
ad summam perfectionem perductum.” 
p. 145. 


Cuap. XXII.] AMAR DESPUES DE LA MUERTE. 445 


Spaniards. Clara, who had remained in it, is mur- 
dered in the mélée by a Spanish soldier for the sake of 
her rich bridal jewels; and though Tuzani arrives in 
season to witness her death, he is too late to intercept 
or recognize the murderer. 

From this moment darkness settles on the scene. 
Tuzani’s character changes, or seems to change, in an 
instant, and his whole Moorish nature is stirred to its 
deepest foundations. The surface, it is true, remains, 
for a time, as calm as ever. He disguises himself 
carefully in Castilian armor, and glides into the en- 
emy’s camp in quest of vengeance, with that fearfully 
cool resolution which marks, indeed, the predominance 
of one great passion, but shows that all the others are 
roused to contribute to its concentrated energy. The 
ornaments of Clara enable her lover to trace out the 
murderer. But he makes himself perfectly sure of his 
proper victim by coolly listening to a minute descrip- 
tion of Clara’s beauty and of the circumstances attend- 
ing her death ; and when the Spaniard ends by saying, 
“T pierced her heart,” Tuzani springs upon him like a 
tiger, crying out, “And was the blow like this?” — 
and strikes him dead at his feet. The Moor is sur- 
rounded, and is recognized by the Spaniards as the 
fiercest of their enemies; but, even from the very 
presence of Don John of Austria, he cuts his way 
through all opposition, and escapes to the mountains. 
Hita says he afterwards knew him personally. 

The power of this painful tragedy consists in the 
living impression it gives us of a pure and elevated 
love, contrasted with the wild elements of the age in 
which it is placed;— the whole being idealized by 
passing through Calderon’s excited imagination, 
but still, in the main, *taken from history * 3879 


446 AMAR DESPUES DE LA MUERTE. [Penton II. 


and resting on known facts. Regarded in this light, 
it is a solemn exhibition of violence, disaster, and 
hopeless rebellion, through whose darkening scenes we 
are led by that burning love which has marked the 
Arab wherever he has been found, and by that proud 
sense of honor which did not forsake him as he slowly 
retired, disheartened and defeated, from the rich em- 
pire he had so long enjoyed in Western Europe. We 
are even hurried by the course of the drama into the 
presence of whatever is most odious in war, and should 
be revolted, as we are made to witness, with our own 
eyes, its guiltiest horrors; but in the midst of all, the 
form of Clara rises, a beautiful vision of womanly love, 
before whose gentleness the tumults of the conflict 
seem, at least, to be hushed; while, from first to last, 
in the characters of Don John of Austria, Lope de 
Figueroa, ’ and Garcés, on one side, and the venerable 
Malec and the fiery Tuzani, on the other, we are 
dazzled by a show of the times that Calderon brings 


1” This character of Lope de Figueroa 
may serve as a specimen of the way in 
which Calderon gave life and interest 
to many of his dramas. Lope is an his- 
torical personage, and figures largely in 
the second volume of Hita’s ‘‘ Guer- 
ras,” as well as elsewhere. He was 
the commander under whom Cervantes 
served in Italy, and probably in Portu- 
gal, when he was in the Tercio de 
Fldndes, —the Flanders regiment, — 
one of the best bodies of troops in the 
armies of Philip II. Lope de Figueroa 
appears again, and still more promi- 
nently, in another good play of Calde- 
ron, ‘‘El Alcalde de Zalamea,’”’ pub- 
lished as early as 1653, but the last in 
the common collection. Its hero is a 
peasant, finely sketched, partly from 
Lope de Vega’s Mendo, in the ‘‘Cu- 
erdo en su Casa”; and it is said at the 
end that it is a true story, whose scene 
is laid in 1581, at the very time Philip 
II. was advancing toward Lisbon, and 
when Cervantes was probably with this 
regiment at Zalamea. 


It should be added, that Calderon, 
in this play, is much indebted to Lope’s 
** Alcalde de Zalamea,” of which a copy 
is to be found at Holland House, but 
which I have not met with elsewhere. 
Nor is this a solitary instance of such 
indebtedness. On the contrary, like 
most of his contemporaries in the same 
position, he borrowed freely from his 
predecessors. Thus, his ‘‘Cabellos de 
Absalon” is much taken from Tirso’s 
“*Venganza de Tamar” ; his ‘‘ Médico 
de su Honra”’ is indebted for its story 
to a play of Lope with the same name, 
very little known; his ‘‘ Nina de Go- 
mez Arias” is partly from a play with 
the same name by Luis Velez de Gue- 
vara, and so of others. How far such 
free borrowing was, under the circum- 
stances of the case, and the opinion of 
the times, justifiable, we can hardly 
tell. Stealing it could not have been, 
for it was too openly done and the au- 
diences of the court and city understood 
it all. Schack, Nachtrige, 1854, pp. 
82 - 87.. 


Cuar. XXIII.] EL MEDICO DE SU HONRA. 447 


before us, and of the passions which deeply marked the 
two most romantic nations that were ever brought into 
a conflict so direct. 

The play of “Love survives Life,” so far as its plot 
is concerned, is founded on the passionate love 
of Tuzani * and Clara, without any intermixture * 380 
of the workings of jealousy, or any questions 
arising, in the course of that love, from an over-excited 
feeling of honor. This is rare in Calderon, whose 
dramas are almost always complicated in their intrigue 
by the addition of one or both of these principles; 
giving the story sometimes a tragic and sometimes 
a happy conclusion. It should be noted, however, to 
his honor, that throughout the whole play of “Love 
survives Life’ he renders the Moorish character a gen- 
erous justice, which was denied to it by Cervantes and 
Lope de Vega. 

One of the best-known and most admired of these 
mixed dramas is “The Physician of his own Honor,” 
printed in 1657,— a play whose scene is laid in the 
time of Peter the Cruel, but one which seems to have 
no foundation in known facts, and in which the mon- 
arch has an elevation given to his character not war- 
ranted by history.’ His brother, Henry of Trasta- 
mara, is represented as having been in love with a 
lady who, notwithstanding his lofty pretensions, is 
given in marriage to Don Gutierre de Solis, a Spanish 
nobleman of high rank and sensitive honor. She is 
sincerely attached to her husband, and true to him. 
But the prince is accidentally thrown into her presence. 


18 About this time, there was a strong 
disposition shown by the overweening 
sensibility of Spanish loyalty to relieve 
the memory of Peter the Cruel from the 
heavy imputations left resting on it by 
Pedro de Ayala, of which I have taken 
notice, (Period I, Chap. IX., note 18,) 


and of which traces may be found in 
Moreto, and the other dramatists of the 
reign of Philip IV. Peter the Cruel 
appears also in the ‘‘ Nia de Plata” 
of Lope de Vega, but with less strongly 
marked attributes. 


448 EL MEDICO DE SU HONRA. [Periop II. 


His passion is revived; he visits her again, contrary to 
her will; he leaves his dagger, by chance, in her apart- 
ment; and, the suspicions of the husband being roused, 
she is anxious to avert any further danger, and begins, 
for this purpose, a letter to her lover, which her hus- 
band seizes before it is finished. His decision is in- 
stantly taken. Nothing can be more deep and tender 
than his love; but his honor is unable to endure the 
idea, that his wife, even before her marriage, had been 
interested in another, and that after it she had seen 
him privately. When, therefore, she awakes from 
the swoon into which she had fallen at the mo- 
* 381 ment he tore from her * the equivocal beginning 
of her letter, she finds at her side a note con- 
taining only these fearful words :— 
My love adores thee, but my honor hates ; 
And while the one must strike, the other warns. 
Two hours hast thou of life. Thy soul is Christ’s ; 
O, save it, for thy life thou canst not save ! ¥ 
At the end of these two fatal hours, Gutierre returns 
with a surgeon, whom he brings to the door of the 
room in which he had left his wife. 
Don Gutierre. Look in upon this room. What seest thou there ? 
Surgeon. A death-like image, pale and still, I see, 
That rests upon a couch. On either side 
A taper lit, while right before her stands 
The holy crucifix. Who it may be 


I cannot say ; the face with gauze-like silk 
Is covered quite.” 


Gutierre, with the most violent threats, requires him to 
enter the room and bleed to death the person who has 


19 El amor te adora, el honor te aborrece, De la muerte, un bulto veo, 
¥ asi el uno te mata, y el otro te avisa: Que sobre una cama yaze ; 
Dos horas tienes de vida; Christiana eres ; Dos velas tiene 4 los lados 
Salva el alma, que la vida es imposible. Y un Crucifixo delante : 

Jorn. II. Quien es, no puedo decir, 
Que con unos tafetanes 
20 Don Gutierrez. Asomate 4 esse aposento; El rostro tiene cubierto. 


Que vesen él? Lud. Una imagen Ibid. 


Cuar. XXIII.] EL MEDICO DE SU HONRA. 449 


thus laid herself out for interment. He goes in and 
accomplishes the will of her husband, without the least 
resistance on the part of his victim. But when he is 
conducted away, blindfold as he came, he impresses his 
bloody hand upon the door of the house, that he may 
recognize it again, and immediately reveals to the king 
the horrors of the scene he has just passed through. 
The king rushes to the house of Gutierre, who as- 

cribes the death of his wife to accident, not from the 
least desire to conceal the part he himself had in it, 
but from an unwillingness to explain his conduct, by 
confessing reasons for it which involved his honor. 
The king makes no direct reply, but requires him 
instantly to marry Leonore, a lady then present, whom 
Gutierre was bound in honor to have married long 
before, and who had already made known to 
*the king her complaints of his falsehood. Gu- * 382 
tierre hesitates, and asks what he should do, if 
the prince should visit his wife secretly and she should 
venture afterwards to write to him; intending by these 
intimations to inform the king what were the real causes 
of the bloody sacrifice before him, and that he would 
not willingly expose himself to their recurrence. But 
the king is peremptory, and the drama ends with the 
following extraordinary scene. 

King. There is a remedy for every wrong. 

Don Gutierre. A remedy for such a wrong as this ? 

King. Yes, Gutierre. 

Don Gutierre. My lord! what is it ? 

King. "T is of your own invention, sir ! : 

Don Gutierre. But what ? 

King. ’T is blood. 

Don Gutierre. What mean your royal words, my lord ? 

King. No more but this; cleanse straight your doors, — 

A bloody hand is on them. 
Don Gutierre. My lord, when men 


In any business and its duties deal, 
VOL, Il, 29 


450 El PINTOR DE SU DESHONRA. [Pertop Il. 


They place their arms escutcheoned on their doors. 
J deal, my lord, in honor, and so place 
A bloody hand_upon my door to mark 
My honor is my blood made good. 
King. Then give thy hand to Leonore. 
I know her virtue hath deserved it long. 
Don Gutierre. I give it, sire. But, mark me, Leonore, 
It comes all bathed in blood. 
Leonore. I heed it not ; 
And neither fear nor wonder at the sight. 
Don Gutierre. And mark me, too, that, if already once 
Unto mine honor I have proved a leech, 
I do not mean to lose my skill. 


Leonore. Nay, rather, 
If my life prove tainted, use that same skill 
To heal it. 

Don Gutierre. I give my hand ; but give it 


On these terms alone.2! 


* 383 ™ Undoubtedly such a scene could be acted only 

on the Spanish stage ; but undoubtedLy, too, not- 
withstanding its violation of every principle of Chris- 
tian morality, it is entirely in the national temper, 
and has been received with applause down to our own 
times.” 

“The Painter of his own Dishonor” is another of the 
dramas founded on love, jealousy, and the point of 
honor, in which a husband sacrifices his faithless wife 
and her lover, and yet receives the thanks of each of 
their fathers, who, in the spirit of Spanish chivalry, not 
only approve the sacrifice of their own children, but 
offer their persons to the injured husband to defend 


21 Rey. Para todo avra remedio. Que yo sé que su alabanza 
D.Gut. Posible es que 4 esto le aya? La merece. D. Gut. Si, la doy. 
Rey. Si, Gutierre D. Gut. Qual, Sefior? Mas mira que va banada 
Rey. Uno vuestro. D. Gut. Que es? En sangre, Leonor. 

Rey. Sangrarla. D. Gut. Que dices? Leon. No importa, 
Rey. Que hagais borrar Que no me admira, ni espanta. 
Las puertas de vuestra casa, D. Gut. Mira que medico he sido 
Que ay mano sangrienta en ellas. De mi honra; no esta olvidada 
D.Gut. Los que de un oficio tratan, La ciencia. Leon. Cura con ella 
Ponen, Senor, 4 las puertas Mi vida en estando mala. 
Un escudo de sus armas. D.Gut. Pues con essa condicion 
Trato en honor; y assi, pongo Te la doy. 
renee en sangre banada Jorn. III. 
a puerta, que el honor hae ’ 
Con sangre, my se laba. 22 «El Médico de su Honra,” Come- 


Rey. Dadsela, pues, 4 Leonor, dias, Tom. VI. 


Cuap. XXIII.] EL MAYOR MONSTRUO LOS ZELOS. 45] 


him against any dangers to which he may be exposed 
in consequence of the murders he has committed.” 
“For a Secret Wrong, Secret Revenge,” is yet a third 
piece, belonging to the same class, and ending tragi- 
cally like the two others. 

But as a specimen of the effects of mere jealousy, 
and of the power with which Calderon could bring on 
the stage its terrible workings, the drama he has called 
“No Monster like Jealousy” is to be preferred to any- 
thing else he has left us.” It is founded on the well- 
known story, in Josephus, of the cruel jealousy of 
Herod, Tetrarch of Judsea, who twice gave orders 
to * have his wife, Mariamne, destroyed, in case * 384 
he himself should not escape alive from the 
perils to which he was exposed in his successive con- 
tests with Antony and Octavius; —all out of dread 
lest, after his death, she should be possessed by an- 


other.” 


In the early scenes of Calderon’s drama, we find 
Herod, with this passionately cherished wife, alarmed 


23 «« RK] Pintor de su Deshonra,” Co- 
medias, Tom. XI. A translation of 
this play into German, with one of the 
**Dicha y Desdicha del Nombre,” was 
published in Berlin in 1850, in a small 
volume, as a supplement to the trans- 
lations of Gries from Calderon. They 
are both made with lightness and taste ; 
and their author—a lady deceased — 
published in 1825 translations of the 
** Nifia de Gomez Arias,” and of the 
**Galan Fantasma.” 

24 «A Secreto Agravio, Secreta Ven- 
ganza,” Comedias, Tom. VI., was print- 
ed in 1637. Calderon, at the end, 
vouches for the truth of the shocking 
story, which he represents as founded 
on facts that occurred at Lisbon just be- 
fore the embarkation of Don Sebastian 
for Africa, in 1578. Some objection 
was made to acting this play at Cadiz 
in 1818, on account of its immorality, 
but it was defended in a short tract en- 
titled ‘*‘ Discurso en Razon de la Tra- 
gedia, A Secreto Agravio,” ec., pp. 12, 


4to, — written, I believe, by a person 
named Cavaleri. One reason alleged 
by him in favor of acting it was, that 
two distinguished German gentlemen 
were then in the city, who were very 
anxious to witness the performance of a 
play of Calderon, and had not been able 
to do so, though they had been some 
time travelling in Spain, and had passed 
a month in Madrid, —so rarely were 
any plays of Calderon then represented. 

25 «*K] Mayor Monstruo los Zelos,” 
Comedias, Tom. V. 

26 Josephus de Bello Judaico, Lib. I. 
ce. 17-22, and Antiq. Judaic, Lib. XV. 
c. 2, etc. Voltaire has taken the same 
story for the subject of his ‘‘ Mariamne,” 
first acted in 1724. There is a pleasant 
criticism on the play of Calderon in a 
pamphlet published at Madrid, by Don 
A. Duran, without his name, in 1828, 
18mo, entitled, ‘‘Sobre el Influjo que 
ha tenido la Critica Moderna en Ja De- 
cadencia del Teatro Antiguo Espafiol,” 
pp. 106-112. 


452 EL MAYOR MONSTRUO LOS ZELOS. [Perro II. 


by a prediction that he should destroy, with his own 
dagger, what he most loved in the world, and that 
Mariamne should be sacrificed to the most formidable 
of monsters. At the same time we are informed, that 
the tetrarch, in the excess of his passion for his fair 
and lovely wife, aspires to nothing less than the mas- | 
tery of the world,— then in dispute between Antony 
and Octavius Cesar, — and that he covets this empire 
only to be able to lay it at her feet. To obtain his 
end, he partly joins his fortunes to those of Antony, 
and fails. Octavius, discovering his purpose, summons 
him to Egypt to render an account of his government. 
But among the plunder which, after the defeat of 
Antony, fell into the hands of his rival, is a portrait 
of Mariamne, with which the Roman becomes so en- 
amored, though falsely advised that the original is dead, 
that, when Herod arrives in Egypt, he finds the picture 
of his wife multiplied on all sides, and Octavius full of 
love and despair. 

Herod’s jealousy is now equal to his unmeasured 
affection; and, finding that Octavius is about to move 
towards Jerusalem, he gives himself up to its terrible 
power. In his blind fear and grief, he sends an old and 
trusty friend, with written orders to destroy Mariamne 
in case of his own death, but adds passionately, — 


Let her not know the mandate comes from me 
That bids her die. Let her not — while she cries 
To Heaven for vengeance — name me as she falls. 


* 385 * His faithful follower would remonstrate, but 
Herod interrupts him : — 


Be silent. You are right ;— 
But still I cqnnot listen to your words ; — 


and then goes off in despair, exclaiming, — 


O mighty spheres above! Osun! O moon 
And stars! O clouds, with hail and sharp frost charged ! 


eo 


Cuap. XXIJI.] EL MAYOR MONSTRUO LOS ZELOS. 45 


Is there no fiery thunderbolt in store 

For such a wretch as I? O mighty Jove! 

For what canst thou thy vengeance still reserve, 
If now it strike not ? 27 


But Mariamne obtains secretly a knowledge of his 
purpose; and, when he arrives in the neighborhood 
of Jerusalem, gracefully and successfully begs his life 
of Octavius, who is well pleased to do a favor to the 
fair original of the portrait he had ignorantly loved, 
and is magnanimous enough not to destroy a rival, 
who had yet by treason forfeited all right to his for- 
bearance. 

As soon, however, as Mariamne has secured the 
promise of her husband’s safety, she retires with him 
to the most private part of her palace, and there, in 
her grieved and outraged love, upbraids him with his 
design upon her life; announcing, at the same time, 
her resolution to shut herself up from that moment, 
with her women, in widowed solitude and perpetual 
mourning. But the same night Octavius gains access 
to her retirement, in order to protect her from the 
violence of her husband, which he, too, had discovered. 
She refuses, however, to admit to jim that her husband 
can have any design against her life; and defends both 
her lord and herself with heroic love. She then escapes, 
pursued by Octavius, and at the same instant her hus- 
band enters. He follows them, and a conflict ensues 
instantly. The lights are extinguished, and in 
the confusion Mariamne falls under a blow * from * 386 
her husband’s hand, intended for his rival; thus 
fulfilling the prophecy at the opening of the play, that 


27 Calla, Nubes, granizos, y escarchas, 
Que sé, que tienes razon, No hay un rayo para un triste? 
Pero no puedo escucharla. Pues si aora no los gastas, 

. . 5 . : Para quando, para quando 
Esferas altas, Son, Jupiter, tus venganzas? 


Cielo, sol, luna y estrellas, Jorn. II. 


454 


EL MAYOR MONSTRUO LOS ZELOS. _ [Psriop II. 
she should perish by his dagger and by the most for- 
midable of monsters, which is now interpreted to be 
Jealousy. 

The result, though foreseen, is artfully brought about 
at last, and produces a great shock on the spectator, 
and even on the reader. Indeed, it does not seem as 
if this fierce and relentless passion could be carried, on 
the stage, to a more terrible extremity. Othello’s 
jealousy — with which it is most readily compared — 
is of a lower kind, and appeals to grosser fears. But 
that of Herod is admitted, from the beginning, to be 
without any foundation, except the dread that his wife, 
after his death, should be possessed by a rival, whom, 
before his death, she could never have seen ;—a tran- 
scendental jealousy to which he is yet willing to sacri- 
fice her innocent life. 

Still, different as are the two dramas, there are sey- 
eral points of accidental coincidence between them. 
Thus, we have, in the Spanish play, a night scene, in 
which her women undress Mariamne, and, while her 
thoughts are full of forebodings of her fate, sing to her 
those lines of Escriva which are among the choice 
snatches of old poetry found in the earliest of the 
General Cancioneros : — 


Come, Death, but gently come and still ; — 
All sound of thine approach restrain, 
Lest joy of thee my heart should fill, 
And turn it back to life again ; 7° — 


beautiful words, which remind us of the scene imme- 
diately preceding the death of Desdemona, when she 


28 Ven, muerte, tan escondida, 
Que no te sienta venir, 
Porque el placer del morir 


again ; and Cancionero General, 1573, 
f. 185. Lope de Vega made a gloss on 


No me buelva 4 dar la vida. 
Jorn. III. 


See, also, Calderon’s ‘* Manos Blancas 
no.ofenden,” Jorn. II., where he has it 


it, (Obras, Tom. XIII. p. 256,) and 
Cervantes repeats it (Don Quixote, 
Parte II. c. 38) ;—so much was it ad- 


mired. See, also, Malaspina’s ‘‘ Fuerza 
de la Verdad,” Jorn. I. 


Cuap. XXIII.) EL MAYOR MONSTRUO LOS ZELOS. 455 


is undressing and talks with Emilia, singing, at the 
same time, the old song of “ Willow, Willow.” 

Again, we are reminded of the defence of Othello by 
Desdemona down to the instant of her death, in 
the answer *of Mariamne to Octavius, when he * 387 
urges her to escape with him from the vielence 


of her husband : — 


My lips were dumb, when I beheld thy form ; 
And now IJ hear thy words, my breath returns 
Only to tell thee, ’t is some traiter foul 

And perjured that has dared to fill thy mind 
With this abhorred conceit. For, Sire, my husband 
Is my husband ; and if he slay me, 

I am guiltless, which, in the flight you urge, 

I could not be. I dwell in safety here, 

And you are ill informed about my griefs ; 

Or, if you are not, and the dagger’s point 
Should seek my life, I die not through my fault, 
But through my star’s malignant potency, 
Preferring in my heart a guiltless death 

Before a life held up to vulgar scorn. 

If, therefore, you vouchsafe me any grace, 

Let me presume the greatest grace would be 
That you should straightway leave me.” 


Other passages might be adduced; but, though strik- 
ing, they do not enter into the essential interest of the 
drama. This consists in the exhibition of the heroic 
character of Herod, broken down by a cruel jealousy, 
over which the beautiful innocence of his wife triumphs 
only at the moment of her death; while above them 
both the fatal dagger, like the unrelenting destiny of 
the ancient Greek tragedy, hangs suspended, seen only 


29 El labio mudo Y quando no Jo estuviera, 
Quedé al veros, y al oiros Matandome un punal duro, 
Su aliento le restituyo, Mi error no me diera muerte, 
Animada para solo Sino mi fatal influxo ; 
Deciros, que algun perjuro Con que viene 4 importar menos 
Aleve, y traydor, en tanto Morir inocente, juzgo, 
Malquisto concepto os puso. Que vivir culpada a vista 
Mi esposo es mi esposo} y quando De las malicias del vulgo. 
Me mate algun error suyo, Y¥ assi, si alguna fineza 
No me matara mi error, He de deberos, presumo, 
Y lo sera si dél huyo Que la mayor es bolveros. 
Yo estoy segura, y vos mal Jorn, III. 


Informado en mis disgustos ; 


456 EL PRINCIPE CONSTANTE. [Perron II. 
by the spectators, who witness the unavailing struggles 
of its victims to escape from a fate in which, with every 
effort, they become more and more involved.” 
Other dramas of Calderon rely for their success on 
a high sense of loyalty, with little or no admix- 
* 388 ture of love * or jealousy. The most prominent 
of these is “The Firm-hearted Prince.”® Its 
plot is founded on the expedition against the Moors in 
Africa by the Portuguese Infante Don Ferdinand, in 
1457, which ended with the total defeat of the invaders 
before Tangier, and the captivity of the prince himself, 
who died in a miserable bondage in 1443 ; — his very 
bones resting for many years among the misbelievers, 
till they were at last brought home to Lisbon and 
buried with reverence, as those of a saint and martyr. 
This story Calderon found in the old and beautiful 
Portuguese chronicles of Joam Alvares and Ruy de 
Pina; but he makes the sufferings of the prince volun- 
tary, thus adding to Ferdinand’s character the self- 
devotion of Regulus, and so fitting it to be the subject 
of a deep tragedy, founded on the honor of a Christian 
patriot.” 


lower, Joam Alvares, first printed in 
1527, of which an abstract, with long 
passages from the original, may be found 
in the ‘‘ Leben des standhaften Prin- 


39 Mariana announces it at the out- 
set :— 


Par ley de nuestros hados 
Vivimos a desdichas destinados. 


81 <* Rl Principe Constante,” Comedi- 
as, Tom. III. It is translated into Ger- 
man by A. W. Schlegel, and has been 
much admired as an acting play in the 
theatres of Berlin, Vienna, Weimar, 
etc. 

82 Coleccaé de Livros Ineditos de Hist. 
Port., Lisboa, folio, Tom. I., 1790, pp. 
290-294; an excellent work, published 
by the Portuguese Academy, and edited 
by the learned Correa da Serra, formerly 
Minister of Portugal to the United 
States. The story of Don Ferdinand 
is also told in Mariana, Historia (Tom. 
II. p. 345). But the principal resource 
of Calderon was, no doubt, a life of the 
Infante, by his faithful friend and fol- 


zen,” Berlin, 1827, 8vo;—a curious 
and interesting book. To these may 
be added, for the illustration of the 
Principe Constante, a tract by J. Schulze, 
entitled ‘‘ Ueber den standhaften Prin- 
zen,” printed at Weimar, 1811, 12mo, 
at a time when Schlegel’s translation 
of that drama, brought out under the 
auspices of Goethe, was in the midst of 
its success on the Weimar stage ; the 
part of Don Ferdinand being acted with 
great power by Wolf. Schulze is quite 
extravagant in his estimate of the po- 
etival worth of the Principe Constante, 
placing it by the side of the ‘‘ Divina 
Commedia”; but he discusses skilfully 
its merits as an acting drama, and ex- 


Cuar. XXIII.) EL PRINCIPE CONSTANTE. 457 


The first scene is one of lyrical beauty, in the gar- 
dens of the king of Fez, whose daughter is introduced 
as enamored of Muley Hassan, her father’s principal 
general. Immediately afterwards, Hassan enters and 
announces the approach of a Christian armament, com- 
manded by the two Portuguese Infantes. He is de- 
spatched to prevent their landing, but fails, and is 
himself taken prisoner by Don Ferdinand in person. 
A long dialogue follows between the captive and his 
conqueror, entirely formed by an unfortunate am- 
plification of a beautiful ballad of Géngora, 

* which is made to explain the attachment of * 389 
the Moorish general to the king’s daughter, and 

the probability —if he continues in captivity — that 
she will be compelled to marry the Prince of Morocco. 
The Portuguese Infante, with chivalrous generosity, 
gives up his prisoner without ransom, but has hardly 
done so, before he is attacked by a large army under 
the Prince of Morocco, and made prisoner himself. 

From this moment begins that trial of Don Ferdi- 
nand’s patience and fortitude which gives its title to 
the drama. At first, indeed, the king treats him gen- 
erously, thinking to exchange him for Ceuta, an im- 
portant fortress recently won by the Portuguese, and 
their earliest foothold in Africa. But this constitutes 
the great obstacle. The king of Portugal, who had 
died of grief on receiving the news of his brother’s 
captivity, had, it is true, left an injunction in his will 
that Ceuta should be surrendered and the prince ran- 
somed. But when Henry, one of his brothers, appears 
on the stage, and announces that he has come to fulfil 
this solemn command, Ferdinand suddenly interrupts 


lains, in part, its historical elements. stante were set to music by the German 
he lyrical portions of the Principe Con- genius, Mendelssohn Bartholdy. 


458 EL PRINCIPE CONSTANTE. (Peron II. 


him in the offer, and reveals at once the whole of his 
character : — 


NN 


Cease, Henry, cease ! — no farther shalt thou go ; — 
For words like these should not alone be deemed 
Unworthy of a prince of Portugal, — 

A Master of the Order of the Cross, — 

But of the meanest serf that sits beneath 

The throne, or the barbarian hind whose eyes 
Have never seen the light of Christian faith. 

No doubt, my brother — who is now with God — 
May in his will have placed the words you bring, 
But never with a thought they should be read 
And carried through to absolute fulfilment ; 

But only to set forth his strong desire, 

That, by all means which peace or war can urge, 
My life should be enfranchised. For when he says, 
‘* Surrender Ceuta,” he but means to say, 

‘¢ Work miracles to bring my brother home.” 

But that a Catholic and faithful king 

Should yield to Moorish and to heathen hands 

A city his own blood had dearly bought, 

When, with no weapon save a shield and sword, 
He raised his country’s standard on its walls, — 
It cannot be !— It cannot be ! ® 


*390 *On this resolute decision, for which the old 

chronicle gives no authority, the remainder of 
the drama rests; its deep enthusiasm being set forth 
in a single word of the Infante, in reply to the renewed 
question of the Moorish king, “And why not give up 


Possible entregar a un Moro 
Una ciudad que le cuesta 
Su sangre, pues fué el primero 
Que con sola una rodela, 
Y una espada, enarbold 
Las Quinas en sus almenas ? 
Jorn. IE. 


When we read the Principe Con- 
stante, we seldom remember that this 


33 No prosigas ; — cessa, 
Cessa, Enrique, porque son 
Palabras indignas essas, 
No de un Portugués Infante, 
De un Maestre, que professa 
De Christo la Religion, 
Pero aun de un hombre lo fueram 
Vil, de un barbaro sin luz 
De la Fé de Christo eterna. 
Mi hermano, que esta en el Cielo, 
Si en su testamento dexa 


Essa clausula, no es 

Para que se cumpla, y lea, 
Sino para mostrar solo, 

Que mi libertad desea, 

Y essa se busque por otros 
Medios, y otras conveniencias, 
© apacibles, 6 crueles ; 
Porque decir: Dese 4 Ceuta, 
Es decir: Hasta esso haced 
Prodigiosas diligencias ; 

Que un Rey Catolico, y justo 
Como fuera, como fuera 


Don Henry, who is one of its important 
personages, is the highly cultivated 
prince who did so much to premote 
discoveries in India. See ante, Vol. I. 
p. 186. Damian de Goes says that the 
Prince lived a bachelor in order to de- 
vote himself to astronomy, — ‘‘propter 
sola astrorum studia ccelebs vixit.” 
Fides, Religio, Moresque Athiopum, 
Lovanii, 1540, 4to, f. 4. It should be 


Car. XXIII.] EL PRINCIPE CONSTANTE. 459 


Ceuta?” to which Ferdinand firmly and simply an- 


swers, — 
Because it is not mine to give. 
A Christian city, —it belongs to God. 


In consequence of this final determination, he is re- 
duced to the condition of a common slave ; and it is 
not one of the least moving incidents of the drama, 
that he finds the other Portuguese captives among 
whom he is sent to work, and who do not recognize 
him, promising freedom to themselves from the effort 
they know his noble nature will make on their behalf, 
when the exchange which they consider so reasonable 
shall have restored him to his country. 

At this point, however, comes in the operation of the 
Moorish general’s gratitude. He offers Don Ferdinand 
the means of escape; but the king, detecting the con- 
nection between them, binds his general to an honor- 
able fidelity by making him the prince’s only keeper. 
This leads Don Ferdinand to a new sacrifice of himself. 
He not only advises his generous friend to preserve his 
loyalty, but assures him, that, even should foreign 
means of escape be offered him, he will not take advan- 
tage of them, if, by doing so, his friend’s honor would 
be endangered. In the mean time, the suffer- 
ings of the unhappy prince are * increased by * 391 
cruel treatment and unreasonable labor, till his 
strength is broken down. Still he does not yield. 
Ceuta remains in his eyes a consecrated place, over 
which religion prevents him from exercising the con- 
trol by which his freedom might be restored. The 
Moorish general and the king’s daughter, on the other 
remembered, however, that this In- accompany them, was the head of the 
fante, Don Henry, sometimes called expedition against Tangier, although 


‘the Navigator” from the expeditions his brother Ferdinand was associated 
he sent to India, though he did not with him in the command. 


460 EL PRINCIPE CONSTANTE. [Perrop II. 


side, intercede for mercy in vain. The king is inflex- 
ible, and Don Ferdinand dies, at length, of mortifica- 
tion, misery, and want; but with a mind unshaken, 
and with an heroic constancy that sustains our inter- 
est in his fate to the last extremity. Just after his 
death, a Portuguese army, destined to rescue him, 
arrives. Ina night scene of great dramatic effect, he 
appears at their head, clad in the habiliments of the 
religious and military order in which he had desired to 
be buried, and, with a torch in his hand, beckons them 
on to victory. They obey the supernatural summons, 
entire success follows, and the marvellous conclusion 
of the whole, by which his consecrated remains are 
saved from Moorish contamination, is in full keeping 
with the romantic pathos and high-wrought enthu- 
siasm of the scenes that lead to it. 


* OH Bobet, XX TV, * 392 


CALDERON, CONTINUED. —COMEDIAS DE CAPA Y ESPADA.-—-FIRST OF ALL MY 
LADY.— FAIRY LADY.— THE SCARF AND THE FLOWER, AND OTHERS. — 
HIS DISREGARD OF HISTORY. — ORIGIN OF THE EXTRAVAGANT IDEAS OF 
HONOR AND DOMESTIC RIGHTS IN THE SPANISH DRAMA.— ATTACKS ON 
CALDERON. — HIS ALLUSIONS TO PASSING EVENTS. — HIS BRILLIANT STYLE. 
— HIS LONG AUTHORITY ON THE STAGE.— AND THE CHARACTER OF HIS 
POETICAL AND IDEALIZED DRAMA. 


We must now turn to some of Calderon’s plays 
which are more characteristic of his times, if not of 
his peculiar genius,— his comedias de capa y espada, 
He has left us many of this class, and not a few of 
them seem to have been the work of his early, but 
ripe manhood, when his faculties were in all their 
strength, as well as in all their freshness. Nearly 
or quite thirty can be enumerated, and still more may 
be added, if we take into the account those which, 
with varying characteristics, yet belong to this par- 
ticular division rather than to any other. Among 
the more prominent are two, entitled “It is Worse 
than it was” and “It is Better than it was,” which, 
probably, were translated by Lord Bristol in his lost 
plays, “ Worse and Worse” and “Better and Bet- 
ter”;'—-“The Pretended Astrologer,’ which Dry- 
den used in his “ Mock Astrologer” ;?— “ Beware of 


1 «’T ig Better than it was” and 
‘* Worse and Worse.” ‘‘ These two 
comedies,” says Downes, (Roscius An- 
glicanus, London, 1789, 8vo, p. 36,) 
‘were made out of Spanish by the 
Earl of Bristol.” There can be little 
doubt that Calderon was the source 
here referred to, and that the plays 
used were ‘‘ Mejor esta que Estaba,” 


and ‘‘Peor esta que Estaba.” ‘‘Elvira, 
or the Worse not always True,” also by 
Lord Bristol, printed in 1677, and in 
the twelfth volume of Dodsley’s collec- 
tion, is from Calderon’s ‘‘ No Siempre 
lo Peor es Cierto.” But such instances 
are rare in the old English drama, com- 
pared with the French. 

2 Dryden took, as he admits, ‘An 


462 ANTES QUE TODO ES MI DAMA. [Perrop II. 


*393 Smooth Water”;— and “It is ill *keeping a 

House with T'wo Doors” ; — which all indicate 
by their names something of the spirit of the entire 
class to which they belong, and of which they are fa- 
vorable examples. 

Another of the same division of the drama is en- 
titled “ First of all my Lady.” A young cavalier 
from Granada arrives at Madrid, and immediately falls 
in love with a lady, whose father mistakes him for 
another person, who, though intended for his daughter, 
is already enamored elsewhere. Strange confusions 
are ingeniously multiplied out of this mistake, and 
strange jealousies naturally follow. The two gentle- 
men are found in the houses of their respective ladies, 
—a mortal offence to Spanish dramatic honor, — and 
things are pushed to the most dangerous and confound- 
ing extremities. The principle on which so many 
Spanish dramas turn, that 


A sword-thrust heals more quickly than a wound 


Inflicted by a word,® 
is abundantly exemplified. 


Evening’s Love, or the Mock Astrolo- 
ger,” from the ‘‘ Feint Astrologue” of 
Thomas Corneille. (Scott’s Dryden, 
London, 1808, 8vo, Vol. III. p. 229.) 
Corneille had it from Calderon’s ‘‘As- 
trélogo Fingido.” The ‘‘ Adventures 
of Five Hours” compared with which 
Pepys thought Shakespeare’s Othello 
‘a mean thing,” is, substantially, a 
translation from the ‘‘ Empefios de Seis 
Horas” (Comedias, Escogidas, Tom. 
VIII. 1657) attributed to Calderon ; 
but, in fact, first on the list of plays 
declared to be none of his by his friend 
Vera Tassis. It is, however, a pretty 
good imitation of Calderon’s manner, 
and Pepys was not far out of the way 
when, speaking of the version by Colonel, 
afterwards Sir Samuel, Tuke, he said 
that it was ‘‘the best for the variety 
and most excellent continuance of the 
plot to the very end, that he ever saw.” 
(Memoirs, 1828, Vol. III. p. 11, Vol. 


More than once the lady’s 


I. p. 364). The play is reprinted in 
Dodsley’s collection, Vol. XII. 
3 Mas facil sana una herida 

Que no una palabra. 
And again, in ‘‘ Amar despues de la 
Muerte,” — 
- Una herida mejor 

Se sana que una palabra. 

Comedias, 1760, Tom. II. p. 852. 

This embodies the national feeling in 
a proverb as old as the time of the 
Marquis of Santillana, in the fifteenth 
century. (Mayans, Origenes, Tom. II. 
p- 207.) 

Sanan las enchilladas 

Y no las malas palabras. 


Cure for a knife-thrust art affords, 
But nothing cures insulting words. 

In a Spanish challenge, the offended 
party invited his adversary to meet him 
‘*Sin mas armas que una espada, para 
ver si la de vm. corta como su lengua.” 
Varias Fortunas de Don Ant. Hurtado 
de Mendoza, f. 3. 


Car. XXIV.) THE DAMA DUENDE. 463 


secret is protected rather than the friend of the lover, 
though the friend is in mortal danger at the moment ; 
—the circumstance which gives its name to the drama. 
At last, the confusion is cleared up by a simple expla- 
nation of the original mistakes of all the parties, 
and a double marriage brings a happy ending to the 
troubled scene, which frequently seemed quite inca- 
pable of it.* 

“The Fairy Lady”’® is another of Calderon’s 
dramas * that is full of life, spirit, and ingenuity. * 394 
Its scene is laid on the day of the baptism of 
Prince Balthasar, heir-apparent of Philip the Fourth, 
which, as we know, occurred on the 4th of November, 
1629; and the piece itself was, therefore, probably 
written and acted soon afterwards.® It was printed 
in 1635. If we may judge by the number of times 
Calderon complacently refers to it, we cannot doubt 
that it was a favorite with him; and if we judge by 
its intrinsic merits, we may be sure it was a favorite 
with the public.’ 


# <¢ Antes que todo es mi Dama.” 

5 «Tia Dama Duende,” Comedias, 
Tom. III. The Duende, often called 
in Castilian 7rasgo, was a spirit of a 
somewhat more mischievous sort than 
the proper fairy, and is described pleas- 
antly by Lope de Vega in the adven- 
tures of his ‘‘ Peregrino,” who is mo- 
lested one night by the frolics of some 
of the gay tribe.” (Lib. V.) From 
Torquemada (Jardin de Flores Curiosas, 
Discurso III.) I suppose the Trasgo was 
a sort of Robin Goodfellow. 

A translation of the ‘‘ Dama Duende” 
is the first in a collection entitled 
‘* Three Comedies, translated from the 
Spanish,” (London, 1807, 8vo,) which 
has been attributed by Watt, in his 
Bibliotheca, — erroneously, I suppose, 
—to the third Lord Holland. All 
three of the plays are too freely ren- 
dered, and have the further disadvan- 
tage of being done into prose ; but the 
English of the translator is eminently 


pure, and often happily adapted to the 
Spanish idiom. 
6 Oy el bautismo celebra 
Del primero Baltasar, 
Jorn. I. 

The Prince Balthasar Carlos, who 
died, I believe, at the age of seventeen, 
is chiefly known to us by the many 
fine portraits Velasquez painted of him. 
His birth was matter of great rejoicing 
all over the Spanish dominions, as, 
during the nine previous years of her 
married life, Isabel of France had borne 
only daughters. I have a tract of 
Latin, Spanish, and Italian verses, 
written on the occasion by Jacobus Va- 
lerius of Milan, very characteristic of 
the age. My copy of it was presented 
by the author with an autograph Latin 
inscription to Alfonso Carreras, one of 
the Royal Spanish Council in Italy. 

7 I should think he refers to 1t eight 
times, perhaps more, in the course of 
his plays: e. g. in ‘‘ Mafianas de Avril 


464 (Periop II. 


THE DAMA DUENDE. 
Dofia Angela, the heroine of the intrigue, a widow, 
young, beautiful, and rich, lives at Madrid, in the house 
of her two brothers ; but, from circumstances connected 
with her affairs, her life there is so retired, that noth- 
ing is known of it abroad. Don Manuel, a friend, 
arrives in the city to visit one of these brothers; and, 
as he approaches the house, a lady strictly veiled stops 
him in the street, and conjures him, if he be a cavalier 
of honor, to prevent her from being further pursued by 
a gentleman already close behind.’ This lady is Dofia 
Angela, and the gentleman is her brother, Don 
*395 Luis, who is pursuing her only * because he ob- 
serves that she carefully conceals herself from 
him. The two cavaliers not being acquainted with 
each other, — for Don Manuel had come to visit the 
other brother, — a dispute is easily excited, and a duel 
follows, which is interrupted by the arrival of this 
other brother, and an explanation of his friendship for 
Don Manuel. 

Don Manuel is now brought home, and established 
in the house of the two cavaliers, with all the courtesy 
due to a distinguished guest. His apartments, how- 
ever, are connected with those of Dota Angela by a 
secret door, known only to herself and her confidential 


rials of D’Ouville to an old ‘‘ Canevas 


y Mayo”; ‘ Agradecer y no Amar”; 
Italien.” He plainly took them from 


“*Kl Joseph de las Mugeres,” etc. I 


notice it, because he rarely alludes to 
his own works, and never, I think, in 
the way he does to this one. The Da- 
ma Duende is well known in the French 
‘“*Répertoire” as the ‘‘ Esprit Follet” 
of Hauteroche. There is, however, an 
older ‘‘ Esprit Follet,” taken from Cal- 
deron, to which, probably, Hauteroche 
resorted rather than to the Spanish 
original. It is by Antoine le Metel, 
Sieur d’Ouville, (Paris, Quinet, 1642, 
4to,) and an account of it may be found 
in the Parfaits’ Hist. du Théatre Fran- 
gois, (Tom. VI., 1745, p. 159,) but 
they are wrong in attributing the mate- 


Calderon, and if there was anything 
on the popular Italian Theatre of the 
same sort, it was, no doubt, from the 
same source. These Italians in Paris 
stole very freely. 

8 The wearing of veils by ladies in 
the streets of Madrid led to so much 
trouble, that no less than four laws 
were made to forbid their use ;— the 
first in 1586, and the last in 1639. But 
it was all in vain. See a curious trea- 
tise on the subject, ‘‘ Velos Antiguos y 
Modernos en los Rostros de las Mugeres, 
ec., por Antonio de Leon Pinelo,” Ma- 
drid, 1641, 4to, ff. 137. 


Cuap. XXIV.] THE DAMA DUENDE. 465 


maid; and finding she is thus unexpectedly brought 
near a person who has risked his life to serve her, she 
determines to put herself into mysterious communica- 
tion with him. . | 
But Dofia Angela is young and thoughtless. When 

she enters the stranger’s apartment, she is tempted to 
be mischievous, and leaves behind marks of her wild 
humor that are not to be mistaken. The servant of 
Don Manuel thinks it is an evil spirit, or at best a fairy, 
— Duende, — that plays'such fantastic tricks ; disturb- 
ing the private papers of his master, leaving notes on 
his table, throwing the furniture of the room into con- 
fusion, and — from an accident — once jostling its oc- 
cupants in the dark. At last, the master himself 1s 
confounded ; and though he once catches a glimpse of 
the mischievous lady, as she escapes to her own part 
of the house, he knows not what to make of the appa- 
rition. He says: — 

She glided like a spirit, and her light 

Did all fantastic seem. But still her form 

Was human ; I touched and felt its substance, 

And she had mortal fears, and, woman-like, 

Shrunk back again with dainty modesty. 

At last, like an illusion, all dissolved, 

And, like a phantasm, melted quite away. 

If, then, to my conjectures I give rein, 


By heaven above, I neither know nor guess 
What I must doubt or what I may believe.® 


* But the tricksy lady, who has fairly frolicked * 396 
herself in love with the handsome young cava- 

lier, is tempted too far by her brilliant successes, and 
being at last detected in the presence of her astonished 


9 Como sombra se mostr6 ; Como fantasma se fué : 
Fantastica su luz fué. Si doy la rienda al discurso, 
Pero como cosa humana, No sé, vive Dios, no sé, 

Se dex6 tocar y ver; Ni que tengo de dudar, 
Como mortal se temis, Ni que tengo de creer. 
Rezelé como muger, Jorn. Il. 


Como ilusion se deshizd, 
VOL. II. 30 


466 LA VANDA Y LA FLOR. [Purrop II. 


brothers, the intrigue, which is one of the most compli- 
cated and gay to be found on any theatre, ends with 
an explanation of her fairy humors, and her marriage 
with Don Manuel. 

“The Scarf and the Flower,’ which, from internal 
evidence, is to be placed in the year 1632, is another 
of the happy specimens of Calderon’s manner in this 
class of dramas; but, unlike the last, love-jealousies 
constitute the chief complication of its intrigue.” The 
scene is laid at the court of the Duke of Florence. 
Two ladies give the hero of the piece, one a scarf 
and the other a flower; but they are both so com- 
pletely veiled when they do it, that he is unable to 
distinguish one of them from the other. The mis- 
takes which arise from attributing each of these marks 
of favor to the wrong lady constitute the first series of 
troubles and suspicions. These are further aggravated 
by the conduct of the Grand Duke, who, for his own 
princely convenience, requires the hero to show 
marked attentions to a third lady; so that the rela- 
tions of the lover are thrown into the greatest possible 
confusion, until a sudden danger to his life brings out 
an involuntary expression of the true lady’s attach- 
ment, which is answered with a delight so sincere on 
his part as to leave no doubt of his affection. This 
restores the confidence of the parties, and the dénoue- 
ment 18 of course happy. 

There are in this, as in most of the dramas of Cal- 
deron belonging to the same class, great freshness and 
life, and a tone truly Castilian, courtly, and grace- 


10 “La Vanda y la Flor,” Comedias, 
Tom. V. It is admirably translated 
into German, by A. W. Schlegel. 

11 In Jornada I. there is a full-length 
description of the Jura de Baltasar, — 
the act of swearing homage to Prince 


Balthasar, as Prince of Asturias, which 
took place in 1632, and which Calde- 
ron would hardly have introduced on 
the stage much later, because the in- 
terest in such a ceremony is so short- 
lived. 


Cuar. XXIV.] LA VANDA Y LA FLOR. 467 


ful. Lisida, who loves Henry, the hero, and gave him 
the flower, finds him wearing her rival’s scarf, and, 
from this and other circumstances, naturally ac- 

cuses him of béing devoted to that *rival;— * 397 
an accusation which he denies, and explains the 
delusive appearance on the ground that he approached 
one lady as the only way to reach the other. The 
dialogue in which he defends himself is extremely 
characteristic of the gallant style of the Spanish 
drama, especially in that ingenious turn and repeti- 
tion of the same idea in different figures of speech, 
which becomes more and more condensed, — and so, 
as Nick Bottom says, grows to a point, — the nearer 
it approaches its conclusion. 


Lisida. But how can you deny the very thing 
Which, with my very eyes, I now behold ? 

Henry. By full denial that you see such thing. 

Lisida. Were you not, like the shadow of her house, 
Still ever in the street before it ? 

Henry. I was. 

Lisida. At each returning dawn, were you not found 
A statue on her terrace ? 

Henry. I do confess it. 

Lisida. Did you not write to her ? 

Henry. I can’t deny 
I wrote. 

Lisida. Served not the murky cloak of night 
To hide your stolen loves ? 

Henry. That, under cover 
Of the friendly night, I sometimes spoke to her, 
I do confess. 


Lisida. And is not this her scarf ? 
Henry. It was hers once, I think. 
Lisida. Then. what means this ? 


If seeing, talking, writing, be not making love, — 

If wearing on your neck her very scarf, 

If following her and watching, be not love, — 

Pray tell me, sir, what ’t is you call it ? 

And let me not in longer doubt be left 

Of what can be with so much ease explained. 
Henry. A timely illustration will make clear 

What seems so difficult. The cunning fowler, 


468 


* 398 


Lisida. 


LA VANDA YiLLA, BLOR. [Perron II. 


As the bird glances by him, watches for 

The feathery form he aims at, not where it is, 

But on one side; for well he knows that he 

Shall fail to reach his fleeting mark, unless 

He cheat the wind to give its helpful tribute 

To his shot. The careful, hardy sailor, — 

He who hath laid a yoke and placed a rein 

Upon the fierce and furious sea, curbing 

Its wild and monstrous nature, — even he 

Steers not right onward to the port he seeks, 

But bears away, deludes the opposing waves, 

And wins the wished-for haven by his skill. 

The warrior, who a fortress would besiege, 

First sounds the alarm before a neighbor fort, 

Deceives, with military art, the place 

He seeks to win, and takes it unawares, 

Force yielding up its vantage-ground to craft. 

The mine that works its central, winding way 

Volcanic, and, built deep by artifice, 

Like Mongibello, shows not its effect 

In those abysses where its pregnant powers 

Lie hid, concealing all their horrors dark 

E’en from the fire itself ; but there begins 

The task which here in ruin ends and woe, — 

Lightning beneath and thunderbolts above. — 

Now, if my love, amidst the realms of air, 

Aim, like the fowler, at its proper quarry ; 

Or sail a mariner upon the sea, 

Tempting a doubtful fortune as it goes ; 

Or chieftain-like contends in arms, 

Nor fails to conquer even baseless jealousy ; 

Or, like a mine sunk in the bosom’s depths, 

Bursts forth above with fury uncontrolled ; — 

Can it seem strange that J should still conceal 

My many loving feelings with false shows ? 

Let, then, this scarf bear witness to the truth, 

That I, a hidden mine, a mariner, 

A chieftain, fowler, still in fire and water, 

Earth and air, would hit, would reach, would conquer, 

And would crush, my game, my port, my fortress, 

And my foe. [Gives her the scarf. 
You deem, perchance, that, flattered 

By such shallow compliment, my injuries 

May be forgotten with your open folly. 

But no, sir, no !— you do mistake me quite. 

I am a woman; I am proud, — so proud, 

That I will neither have a love that comes 

From pique, from fear of being first cast off, 

Nor from contempt that galls the secret heart. 


Cuar. XXIV.] LA VANDA Y LA FLOR. 469 


He who wins me must love me for myself, 
And seek no other guerdon for his love 
But what that love itself will give.” 


*As may be gathered, perhaps, from what *399 
has been said concerning the few dramas we 
have examined, the plots of Calderon are almost 
always marked with great ingenuity. Extraordinary 
adventures and unexpected turns of fortune, disguises, 
duels, and mistakes of all kinds, are put in constant 
requisition, and keep up an eager interest in the con- 
cerns of the personages whom he brings to the fore- 
ground of the scene. Yet many of his stories are not 
wholly invented by him. Several are taken from the 
books of the Old Testament, as is that on the rebellion 
of Absalom,” which ends with an exhibition of the 


12 Lisid. Pues como podeis negarme Engajia 4 la tierra, que 
Lo mismo que yo estoy viendo? Mal prevenida del riesgo 
Enriq. Negando que vos lo veis. La esperaba ; assi la fuerza 
Lisid. No fuisteis en el passeo Le da 4 partido al ingenio. 
Sombra de su casa? Enriq. 8i. La mina, que en las entranas 
Lisid. Estatua de su terrero De la tierra estreno el centro, 
No os hallo el Alva? Artificioso volean, 
Enriq. Es verdad. Inventado Mongibelo, 
Lisid. No la escrivisteis ? No donde prenado oculta 
Enriq. No niego, Abismos de horror inmensos 
Que escrivi. Lis. No fué la noche Hace el efecto, porque, 
De amantes delitos vuestros Enganando al mismo fuego, 
Capa obscura? Enriq. Que la hablé Aqui concibe, alla aborta ; 
Alguna noche os confiesso. Alli es rayo, y aqui trueno. 
Lisid. No es suya essa vanda? Pues si es cazador mi amor 
Enrig. Suya A En las campaiias del viento ; 
Pienso que fué. Si en el mar de sus fortunas 
Lisid. Pues que es esto? Inconstante marinero ; 
Si ver, si hablar, si escrivir, Si es caudillo victorioso 
Si traer su vanda al cuello, En las guerras de sus zelos: 
Si seguir, si desvelar, Si fuego mal resistido 
No es amar, yo, Enrique, os ruego En mina de tantos pechos, 
Me digais como se llama, Que mucho engajiasse en mi 
Y no ignore yo mas tiempo Tantos amantes afectos? 
Una cosa que es tan facil. Sea esta vanda testigo ; 
Enriq. Respondaos un argumento : Porque, volcan, marinero, 
El astuto cazador, Capitan, y cazador ; 
Que en lo rapido del buelo En fuego, agua, tierra, y viento; 
Hace a un atomo de pluma Logre, tenga, alcanze, y tome 
Blanco veloz del acierto, Ruina, caza, triunfo, y puerto. 
No adonde la cazia esti [ Dale la vanda. 
Pone la mira, advirtiendo, Lisid. Bien pensareis que mis quexas, 


Que para que el viento peche, 
Le importa enganar el viento. 
El marinero ingenioso, 

Que al mar desbocado y fiero, 
Monstruo de naturaleza, 
Hallo yugo, y puso freno, 

No al puerto que solicita 
Pone la proa, que haciendo 
Puntas al agua, desmiente 
Sus iras, y toma puerto. 

El capitan que esta fuerza 
Intenta ganar, primero Jorn. IL 
En aquella toca al arma, Whe m : 
¥ con marciales estruendos 18 This is a drama, in many parts, of 


Mal lisonjeadas con esso, 

Os remitan de mi agravio 

Las sinrazones del vuestro. 
No, Enrique, yo soy muger 
Tan sobervia, que no quiero 
Ser querida por venganza, 
Por tema, ni por desprecio. 
El] que a mi me ha de querer, 
Por mi ha de ser; no teniendo 
Conveniencias en quererme 
Mas que quererme. 


A470 CALDERON’S PLOTS. 


(Pertiop II. 


unhappy prince hanging by his hair and dying amidst 
reproaches on his personal beauty. A few are from 
Greek and Roman history, like “'The Second Scipio ” 
and “ Contests of Love and Loyalty,’ — the last being 
on the story of Alexander the Great. Still more are 
from Ovid’s “Metamorphoses,” ™ like “Apollo 
and Climene ” and “ The * Fortunes of Androm- 
eda.”” And occasionally, but rarely, he seems 
to have sought, with painstaking care, in obscure 
sources for his materials, as in “ Zenobia the Great,” 
where he has used Trebellius Pollio and Flavius Vo- 
piscus.” | 
But, as we have already noticed, Calderon makes 
everything bend to his ideas of dramatic effect; so 
that what he has borrowed from history comes forth 
upon the stage with the brilliant attributes of a 
masque, almost as much as what is drawn from the 
rich resources of his own imagination. If the subject 
he has chosen falls naturally into the only forms he 
recognizes, he indeed takes the facts much as he finds 


* 400 


great brilliancy and power, but one in 
which Calderon owed too much to Tirso. 

14 | think there are six, at least, of 
Calderon’s plays taken from the Meta- 
morphoses ; a circumstance worth not- 
ing, because it shows the direction of 
his taste. He seems to have used no 
ancient author, and perhaps no author 
at all, in his plays, so much as Ovid, 
who was a favorite classic in Spain, six 
translations of the Metamorphoses hav- 
ing been made there before the time of 
Calderon. Don Quixote, ed. Clemen- 
cin, Tom. IV., 1835, p. 407. 

1° It is possible Calderon may not 
have gone to the originals, but found 
his materials nearer at hand ; and yet, 
on a comparison of the triumphal entry 
of Aurelian into Rome, in the third 
jornada, with the corresponding passa- 
ges in Trebellius, ‘‘ De Triginta Tyran- 
nis” (¢. xxix.) and Vopiscus, ‘‘ Aureli- 
anus” (c. xxxiii., xxxiv., etc.), it seems 
most likely that he had read them. 

Once he went to a singular source, 


or, at least, singularly indicated it. 
He took the story of the Sultan Saladin 
from the ‘‘Conde Lucanor” of Don 
John Manuel, (cap. 6,) and called the 
play he founded on it ‘‘ El Conde Lu- 
canor,” making a Count Lucanor its 
hero, though, of course, not the Count 
who gives its title to the original. The 
play of Calderon has beautiful passages. 
One with the same title, and printed as 
his, appears in Vol. XV. of the Come- 
dias Escogidas, 1661; but he protests 
against the outrage in the Preface to 
the Fourth Part of his Plays, which 
was published at Madrid in 1672, and 
in which he required the friend who 
published it to insert the true ‘‘ Conde 
Lucanor,” that justice might be done 
him by a comparison of it with the 
false one. Of this rare Fourth Part, I 
found a copy in St. Mark’s Library, 
Venice, which had belonged to Aposto- 
lo Zeno, who was familiar with the old 
Spanish dramatists, and borrowed from: 
them. 


Cnap. XXIV.] 


CALDERON’S PLOTS. AT] 


them. This is the case with “The Siege of Breda,” 
which he has set forth with, an approach to statistical 
accuracy, as it happened in 1624 — 1625 ; —all in honor 
of the commanding general, Spmola, who may well 
have furnished some of the curious. details of the 
piece,”® and who, no doubt, witnessed its representa- 
tion. This is the case, too, with “The Last Duel in 
Spain,” founded on the last single combat held 

there under royal * authority, which was fought *401 
at Valladolid, in the presence of Charles the 

Fifth, in 1522; and which, by its showy ceremonies 
and chivalrous spirit, was admirably adapted to Cal- 
deron’s purposes.’ 

But where the subject he selected was not thus 
fully fitted, by its own incidents, to his theory of the 
drama, he accommodated it to his end as freely as if 
it were of imagination all compact. “The Weapons of 
Beauty”? and “Love the Most Powerful of Enchant- 
ments’”’ are abundant proofs of this;’ and so is “‘ Hate 
and Love,” where he has altered the facts in the life 


16 For instance, the exact enumera- 
tion of the troops at the opening of the 
play. Comedias, Tom. III. pp. 142, 
149. The Protestants in this play are 
treated with a dignity and considera- 
tion very rare in Spanish poetry, and 
very honorable to Calderon. Velasquez, 
who had travelled to Italy with the 
Marquis of Spinola, painted ore of his 
grandest pictures on the same subject 
with this play of Calderon (Stirling’s 
Artists, Vol. II. p. 634) ; Head (Hand- 
Book, p. 152) reckons it the very best of 
his historical pictures, 

17 It ends with a voluntary anachro- 
nism, —the resolution of the Emperor 
to apply to Pope Paul III. and to have 
such duels abolished by the Council 
of Trent. By its very last words, it 
shows that it was acted before the king, 
a fact that does not appear on its title- 
page. The duel is the one Sandoval 
describes with so much minuteness. 
Hist. de Carlos V., Anvers, 1681, folio, 
Lib. XI. §§ 8, 9. 


I ought, perhaps, to add, that above 
a century later—in 1641 — the Duke 
of Medina Sidonia, on behalf of Philip 
IV., challenged the Duke of Braganza, 
then king of Portugal, to a trial by duel 
of his rights to the crown he had just 
won back from Spain ; and— what is 
more — this challenge was defended by 
ecclesiastical authority in a tract of 
great learning and some acuteness, en- 
titled ‘‘ Justificacion moral en el Fuero 
de la Conciencia de la particular Batalla 
que el Excmo. Duque de Medina Sido- 
nia ofrecié al que fué de Braganca, por 
el Padre M. Thomas Hurtado.” (An- 
tequera, 1641, 4to.) The duel was, of 
course, declined by the king of Por- 
tugal. 

18 “Tas Armas de la Hermosura,” 
Tom. I., and ‘‘El Mayor Encanto 
Amor,” Tom. V., are the plays on Cori- 
olanus and Ulysses. They have been 
mentioned before. 


A472 CALDERON’S PLOTS. [Perrop II. 


of Christina of Sweden, his whimsical contemporary, 
till it is not easy to recognize her,—a remark which 
may be extended to the character of Peter of Aragon 
in his “Tres Justicias en Uno,” and to the personages 
in Portuguese history whom he has so strikingly ideal- 
ized in his “Weal and Woe,” and in his “ Firm- 
Hearted Prince.” To an English reader, however, the 
“Cisma de Inglaterra,” on the fortunes and fate of 
Anne Boleyn and Cardinal Wolsey, is probably the 
most obvious perversion of history ; for the Cardinal, 
after his fall from power, comes on the stage begging 
his bread of Catherine of Aragon, while, at the same 
time, Henry, repenting of the religious schism he has 
countenanced, promises to marry his daughter Mary to 
Philip the Second of Spain.” 

“Nor is Calderon more careful in matters of 
morals than in matters of fact. Duels and homi- 
cides occur constantly in his plays, under the slightest 
pretences, as if there were no question about their pro- 
priety. The authority of a father or brother to put to 
death a daughter or sister who has been guilty of 
secreting her lover under her own roof is fully recog- 
nized" It is made a ground of glory for the king, Don 
Pedro, that he justified Gutierre in the atrocious mur- 
der of his wife; and even the lady Leonore, who is to 
succeed to the blood-stained bed, desires, as we have 
seen, that no other measure of justice should be applied 


* 402 


19 Good, but somewhat over-refined, 
remarks on the use Calderon made of 
Portuguese history in his ‘‘ Weal and 
Woe” are to be found in the Preface to 
the second volume of Malsburg’s Ger- 
man translation of Calderon, Leipzig, 
1819, 12mo. 

20 Comedias, 1760, Tom. IV. See, 
also, Ueber die Kirchentrennung von 
England, von F. W. V. Schmidt, Ber- 
lin, 1819, 12mo ;—a pamphlet full of 
curious matter, but too laudatory, so 


far as Calderon’s merit is concerned. 
Nothing will show the wide difference 
between Shakespeare and Calderon more 
strikingly, than a comparison of this 
play with the grand historical drama 
of ‘‘ Henry the Eighth.” 

21 Of these duels, and his notions 
about female honor, half the plays of 
Calderon may be taken as specimens, 
but it is only necessary to refer to 
“Casa con Dos Puertas” and ‘‘ El Es- 
condido y la Tapada.” 


— 


Cnar. XXIV.J DOMESTIC HONOR. 473 


to herself than had been applied to the innocent and 
beautiful victim who lay dead before her. Indeed, it 
isimpossible to read far in Calderon without perceiving 
that his object is mainly to excite a high and feverish 
interest by his plot and story; and that to do this he 
relies too constantly upon an exaggerated sense of 
honor, which, in its more refined attributes, certainly 
did not give its tone to the courts of Philip the Fourth 
and Charles the Second, and which, with the wide claims 
he makes for it, could never have been the rule of con- 
duct and intercourse anywhere, without shaking all the 
foundations of society and poisoning the best and dear- 
est relations of life. 

Here, therefore, we find pressed upon us the ques- 
tion, What was the origin of these extravagant ideas 
of domestic honor and domestic rights, which are found 
in the old Spanish drama from the beginning of the 
full-length plays in Torres Naharro, and which are thus 
exhibited in all their excess in the plays of Calderon ? 

The question is certainly difficult to answer, as are 
all like it that depend on the origin and traditions of 
national character ; but — setting aside as quite ground- 
less the suggestion generally made, that the old Span- 
ish ideas of domestic authority might be derived from 
the Arabs — we find that the ancient Gothic laws, which 
date back to a period long before the Moorish 
invasion, and which fully *represented the * 403 
national character till they were supplanted by 
the “ Partidas” in the fourteenth century, recognized 
the same fearfully cruel system that is found in the old 
drama. Everything relating to domestic honor was 
left by these laws, as it is by Calderon, to domestic 
authority. The father had power to put to death his 
wife or daughter who was dishonored under his roof ; 


474 DRAMATIC DUELS. [Periop II. 


and if the father were dead, the same terrible power 
was transferred to the brother in relation to his sister, 
or even to the lover, where the offending party had 
been betrothed to him. ? 

No doubt, these wild laws, though formally renewed 
and re-enacted as late as the reign of Saint Ferdinand, 
had ceased in the time of Calderon to have any force ; 
and the infliction of death under circumstances in which 
they fully justified it would then have been murder in 
Spain, as it would have been in any other civilized 
country of Christendom. But, on the other hand, no 
doubt these laws were in operation during many more 
centuries than had elapsed between their abrogation 
and the age of Calderon and Philip the Fourth. The 
tradition of their power, therefore, was not yet lost on 
the popular character, and poetry was permitted to 
preserve their fearful principles long after their enact- 
ments had ceased to be acknowledged anywhere else.” 

Similar remarks may be made concerning duels. 
That duels were of constant recurrence in Spain in 
the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, as well as ear- 
lier, we have abundant proof. But we know, too, that 
the last which was countenanced by royal authority 
occurred in the youth of Charles the Fifth; and there 
is no reason to suppose that private encounters, except 
street brawls, were much more common among the 
cavaliers at Madrid in the time of Lope de Vega 
than they were at London and Paris.* But the tra- 


22 Fuero Juzgo, ed. de la Academia, 
Madrid, 1815, folio, Lib. III. Tit. LV. 
Leyes 3-5 and 9. It should be re- 
membered, that these laws were the old 
Gothic laws of Spain before A. D. 700; 
that they were the laws of the Chris- 
tians who did not fall under the Arabic 
authority ; and that they are published 
in the edition of the Academy as they 
were consolidated and re-enacted by St. 


Ferdinand after the conquest of Cérdova 
in 1241, 

23 Howell, in 1623, when he had been 
a year in Madrid, under circumstances 
to give him familiar knowledge of its 
gay society, and at a time when the 
drama of Lope was at the height of its 
favor, says, ‘‘One shall not hear of a 
duel here inanage.” Letters, eleventh 
edition, London, 1754, 8vo, Book I. 


475 


Cuar. XXIV.] ATTACKS ON CALDERON. 


ditions that had come down from * the times * 404 
when they prevailed were quite sufficient war- 

rant for a drama which sought to excite a strong and 
anxious interest more than anything else. In one of 
the plays of Barrios there are eight, and in another 
twelve duels;* an exhibition that, on any other sup- 
position, would have been absurd. 

Perhaps the very extravagance of such representa- 
tions made them comparatively harmless. It was, in 
the days of the Austrian dynasty, so incredible that a 
brother should put his sister to death merely because 
she had been found under his roof with her lover, or 
that one cavalier should fight another in the street 
simply because a lady did not wish to be followed, that 
there was no great danger of contagion from the the- 
atrical example. Still, the immoral tendency of the 
Spanish drama was not overlooked, even at the time 
when Calderon’s fame was at the highest. Manuel de 
Guerra y Ribera, one of his great admirers, in an Apro- 
bacion prefixed to Calderon’s plays in 1683, praised, not 
only his friend, but the great body of the dramas to . 
whose brilliancy that friend had so much contributed ; 
and the war against the theatre broke out in conse- 
quence, as it had twice in the time of Lope. Four 
anonymous attacks were made on the injudicious 
remarks of Guerra, and two more by persons who 
gave their names, — Puente de Mendoza and Navarro; 
—the last, oddly enough, replying in print to a de- 
fence of himself by Guerra, which had then been seen 


Sect. 8, Letter 32. Figueroa (Placa 
Universal, 1615, f. 270) says the same 
thing, speaking of the duel: ‘‘ Pues 
casi en ninguna provincia o ciudad es 
admitido, ni tiene lugar.” A genera- 
tion later, however, duels were more 
frequent, judging by the discussion of 
the laws of ‘‘the Duello” in ‘‘Solo 


Madrid es Corte, por Alonso Nufiez de 
Castro,” 1658, where it is said they 
are ‘‘not less common than rocks in 
the Mediterranean and storms on the 
ocean.” f. 100, b. Street brawls. 

24 In ‘* El Canto Junto al Encanto,” 
and in *‘ Pedir Favor.” 


476 CALDERON’S FLATTERY OF THE GREAT. [Penton II. 
only in manuscript. But the whole of this discussion 
proceeded on the authority of the Church and the 
Fathers, rather than upon the grounds of public moral- 
ity and social order; and therefore it ended, as pre- 

vious attacks of the same kind had done, by the 
*405 triumph of the theatre; —* Calderon’s plays 

and those of his school being performed and 
admired quite as much after it as before. 

Calderon, however, not only relied on the interest 
he could thus excite by an extravagant story full of 
domestic violence and duels, but often introduced flat- 
tering allusions to living persons and passing events, 
which he thought would be welcome to his audience, 
whether of the court or the city. Thus,in “The Scarf 
and the Flower,” the hero, just returned from Madrid, 
gives his master, the Duke of Florence, a glowing de- 
scription, extending through above two hundred lines, 
of the ceremony of swearing fealty, in 1632, to Prince 
Balthasar, as Prince of Asturias; a passage which, from 
its spirit, as well as its compliments to the king and the 
royal family, must have produced no small effect on 
the stage. Again, in “ El Escondido y la Tapada,” we 


25 Things had not been in an easy 
state, at any time, since the troubles 
already noticed (Chap. XXIJ.) in the 
reigns of Philip IJ. and Philip III., as 
we may see from the Approbation of 
Thomas de Avellaneda to Tom. XXII., 
1665, of the Comedias Escogidas, where 
that personage, a grave and distin- 
guished ecclesiastic, thought it needful 
to step aside from his proper object, 
and defend the theatre against attacks, 
which were evidently then common, 
though they have not reached us. But 
the quarrel of 1682-1685, which was 
a violent and open rupture, can be best 
found in the ‘‘ Apelacion al Tribunal de 
los Doctos,” Madrid, 1752, 4to, (which 
is, in fact, Guerra’s defence of himself 
written in 1683, but not before pub- 
lished,) and in ‘‘Discursos contra los 
que defienden el Uso de las Comedias, 


por Gonzalo Navarro,” Madrid, 1684, 
4to, which is a reply to the last and to 
other works of the same kind. Indeed, 
the number of tracts published on this 
occasion was very large. A real at- 
tempt was made to put down the the- 
atre, relying, perhaps, on the weakness 
of Charles II., and 1t was near to being 
successful. 

26 The description of Philip IV. on 
horseback, as he passed through the 
streets of Madrid, suggests a compari- 
son with Shakespeare’s Bolingbroke in 
the streets of London, but it is wholly 
against the Spanish poet. (Jorn. I.) 
That Calderon meant to be accurate in 
the descriptions contained in this play 
can be seen by reading the official ac- 
count of the ‘‘Juramento del Principe 
Baltasar,” 1632, prepared by Antonio 
Hurtado de Mendoza, of which the sec- 


ATT 


Cuap. XXIV.] CALDERON’S FLATTERY OF THE GREAT. 


have astirring intimation of the siege of Valencia on 
the Po, in 1655; and in “ Nothing like Silence,” re- 
peated allusions to the victory over the Prince of 
Condé at Fontarabia, in 1639.% In “Beware of Smooth 
Water,” there is a dazzling account of the public recep- 
tion of the second wife of Philip the Fourth at 

Madrid, in 1649, fora part of * whose pageant, * 406 
it will be recollected, Calderon was employed 

to furnish inscriptions.” In “ The Blood-Stain of the 
Rose’ — founded on the fable of Venus and Adonis, 
and written in honor of the Peace of the Pyrenees and 
the marriage of the Infanta with Louis the Fourteenth, 
in 1660 —we have whatever was thought proper to 
be said on such subjects by a favorite poet, both in the 
loa, which is fortunately preserved, and in the play it- 
self.” But there is no need of multiplying examples. 


ond edition was printed by order of the 
government, in its printing-office, 1665, 
4to ; or perhaps better, in a similar but 
less formal account of the same cere- 
mony by Juan Gomez de Mora, 1632, 
4to. 

27 It is genuine Spanish. The hero 
says :— 

En Italia estaba, 
Quando la loca arogancia 
Del Frances, sobre Valencia 
Del Po, ec. 
Jorn. I. 

28 He makes the victory more impor- 
tant than it really was, but his allu- 
sions to it show that it was not thought 
worth while to irritate the French in- 
terest ; so cautious and courtly is Cal- 
deron’s whole tone. It is in Tom. X. 
of the Comedias. 

22 The account, in ‘‘Guardate de la 
Agua Mansa,” of the triumphal arch, 
for which Calderon furnished the alle- 
gorical ideas and figures, as well as the 
inscriptions, (both Latin and Castilian, 
the play says,) is very ample. (Jor- 
nada III.) To celebrate this marriage 
of Philip IV. with Marianna of Austria, 
a strange book of above a hundred pages 
of euphuistical flattery, by the pedantic 
scholar Joseph Pellicer de Tovar, was 
printed in 1650, and entitled ‘‘ Alma 


de la Gloria de Espafia, ec., Epitalamio 
D. O. C. al Rey Nuestro Sefior”’ ; — the 
only epithalamium I ever heard of fill- 
ing a volume, and all in prose. For 
the marriage itself, the entrance into 
Madrid, etc., see Florez, Reynas Ca- 
tolicas, Tom. II., 2d ed. 1770, pp. 953, 
sqq. 
30 Here, again, we have the courtly 
spirit in Calderon. He insists most 
carefully, that the Peace of the Pyre- 
nees and the marriage of the Infanta 
are not connected with each other; and 
that the marriage is to be regarded ‘‘as 
a separate affair, treated at the same 
time, but quite independently.” But 
his audience knew better. Indeed, the 
very suggestion of the peace and the 
match as a joint arrangement to settle 
everything between the two countries 
came from Philip 1V. Mad. de Motte- 
ville, Mémoires d’Anne d’Autriche, 
1750, Tom. V. pp. 295, 296, 301, 418. 

From the ‘‘ Viage del Rey Nuestro 
Senor D. Felipe 1V. el Grande a la 
Frontera de Francia, por Leonardo del 
Castillo,”” Madrid, 1667, 4to, —a work 
of official pretensions, describing the 
ceremonies attending both the marriage 
of the Infanta and the conclusion of the 
peace, — it appears that, wherever Cal- 


478 CALDERON’S STYLE. [Perrop II, 


Calderon nowhere fails to consult the fashionable and 
courtly, as well as the truly national, feeling of his 
time; and in “The Second Scipio” he stoops even to 
cross flattery of the poor and imbecile Charles the 
Second, declarnmg him equal to that great patriot 
whom Milton pronounces to have been “ the height of 


Rome.” #! 


*407 


* In style and versification, Calderon has high 


merits, though they are occasionally mingled 


with the defects of his age. 
great ohjects, and he easily attains it. 


Brilliancy is one of his 
But, especially 


in his earlier dramas, he falls, and with apparent will- 
ingness, into the showy folly of his time, the absurd 


deron has alluded to either, he has been 
true to the facts of history. A similar 
remark may be made of the ‘‘ Tetis y 
Peleo,” evidently written for the same 
occasion, and printed, Comedias Escogi- 
das, Tom. XXIX., 1668 ; a poor dra- 
ma by an obscure author, Josef de Bo- 
lea, and probably one of the several 
that we know, from Castillo, were rep- 
resented to amuse the king and court 
on their journey. A strange conse- 
quence of the Peace of the Pyrenees 
and the marriage of Louis XIV. with 
the Infanta is said, in a contemporary 
account, to have followed the next 
year; I mean the canonization of 
that noble-hearted Spaniard, Tomas de 
Villanueva, who was selected for that 
honor by Alexander VI. because he was 
‘a saint fitted to be a mediator to in- 
tercede with God for the peace of these 
two mighty crowns.” See ‘‘ Relacion 
de las Fiestas que el real Convento de 
San Augustin de la Ciudad de Cor- 
doba a celebrado 4 la Canonicacion de 
Sto. Tomas de Villanueva,” 4to, s, a. 


p. 2. 

81 This flattery of Charles II. is the 
more disagreeable, because it was offered 
in the poet’s old age ; for Charles did 
not come to the throne till Calderon 
was seventy-five years old. But it is, 
after all, not so shocking as the sort of 
blasphemous compliments to Philip IV. 
and his queen in the strange auto called 
**Kl Buen Retiro,” acted on the first 
Corpus Christi day after that luxurious 


palace was finished, contrasting, too, 
as it does, with the becoming account 
of the burning of the o/d Buen Retiro 
in 1641,.which is found in the ‘‘ Manos 
Blancas no Ofenden.” 

One of the most marked instances of 
an adroit solicitation of popular ap- 
plause on the Spanish stage is in the 
‘*Monstruo de la Fortuna,” written 
jointly by Calderon, Montalvan, and 
Roxas. It is on the story of Felipa 
Catanea, the washerwoman, who rose 
to great political authority, for a time, 
at Naples, in the early part of the four- 
teenth century, and was then put to 
death, with all her family, in the most 
cruel and savage manner. The play in 
question is taken from a sort of ro- 
mance made out of her history and 
fate by Pierre Matthieu, which was 
printed in French in 1618, and trans- 
lated by Juan, Pablo Martyr Rizo into 
Spanish, in 1625 ;— the object being, 
by constant allusions, to exasperate pub- 
lic feeling against the adventurer Con- 
cini, Maréchal d’Ancre, and his wife, 
in the time of Louis XIII. Owing to 
the troubles between France and Spain, 
every word of Calderon’s play must 
have told on his Spanish audiences, 
There is a rich old English translation 
of Matthieu’s book by Sir Thomas Haw- 
kins, of which the second edition was 

ublished in 1639, under the title ‘* Un- 

appy Prosperity expressed in the His- 
tory of Elius Sejanus and Philippa the 
Catanian.” 


Cuap. XXIV.] CALDERON’S STYLE. A479 


sort of euphuism which Gongora and his followers 
called “the cultivated style.” This is the case, for in- 
stance, in his “ Love and Fortune,” and in his “ Con- 
flicts of Love and Loyalty.” But in “ April and May 
Mornings,” on the contrary, and in “ No Jesting with 
Love,” he ridicules the same style with great severity ; 
and in such charming plays as “ The Lady and the 
Maid,” and “ The Loud Secret,” he wholly avoids it, — 
thus adding another to the many instances of distin- 
euished men who have sometimes accommodated them- 
selves to their age and its fashions, which at others 
they have rebuked or controlled. Everywhere, how- 
ever, his verses charm us by their delicious melody ; 
everywhere he indulges himself in the rich variety of 
measures which Spanish or Italian poetry offered him, 
— octave stanzas, terza rima, sonnets, silvas, tras, and 
the different forms of the redondilla, with the ballad 
asonantes and consonantes ; — showing a mastery over 
his language extraordinary in itself, and one which, 
while it sometimes enables him to rise to the loftiest 
tones of the national drama, seduces him at others to 
seek popular favor by fantastic tricks that were wholly 
unworthy of his genius.” 

* But we are not to measure Calderon as his * 408 
contemporaries did. We stand at a distance 


®2 Some of the best of Calderon’s popular ballads ; of which the Te- 


plays are occasionally disfigured with 
the estilo culto ; such as the ‘‘ Principe 
Constante,” ‘‘ La Vida es Suefio,” ‘* El 
Mayor Monstruo,” and ‘‘ El Médico de 
su Honra”’ ; and precisely these plays 
we know were the works of his yauth, 
for they all appear in the two volumes 
ote by his brother in 1635 and 
1637. 

83 J think Calderon never uses blank 
verse, though Lope does. The narra- 
tive portions of his Comedias, like those 
of other dramatists, have sometimes 
been printed separately, and sold as 


trarch’s address in ‘El Mayor Mon- 
struo,” Jorn. II., beginning ‘‘Si todas 
quantas desdichas,” is an example. 
(Tom. V. p. 497.) Calderon, also, be- 
sides the forms of verse noted in the 
text, occasionally inserts glosas ;—a 
happy specimen of which may be found 
in ‘‘ Amar despues de la Muerte,” Jorn. 
II., beginning, ‘‘ No es menester que 
digais,’”’ which I select because, lke 
other similar refinements of verse in 
Calderon, it is not so printed as to in- 
form the eye what it is. Tom. Y. p. 
370. 


A80 CALDERON’S CHARACTER. ([Perrop II, 


too remote and impartial for such indulgence; and 
must neither’ pass over his failures nor exaggerate his 
merits. We must look on the whole mass of his efforts 
for the theatre, and inquire what he really effected for 
its advancement, —or rather what changes it under- 
went in his hands, both in its more gay and its more 
serious portions. 

Certainly Calderon appeared as a writer for the 
Spanish stage under peculiarly favorable circum- 
stances ; and, by the preservation of his faculties to 
an age beyond that commonly allotted to man, was 
enabled long to maintain the ascendency he had early 
established. His genius took its direction from the 
very first, and preserved it to the last. When he was 
fourteen years old he had written a piece for the 
stage, which, sixty years later, he thought worthy to 
be put into the list of dramas that he furnished to the 
Admiral of Castile.* When he was thirty-five, the 
death of Lope de Vega left him without a rival. The 
next year, he was called to court by Philip the Fourth, 
the most munificent patron the Spanish theatre ever 
knew ; and from this time till his death, the destinies 
of the drama were in his hands nearly as much as they 
had been before in those of Lope. Forty-five of his 
longer pieces, and probably more, were acted in mag- 
nificent theatres in the different royal palaces of Ma- 
drid and its neighborhood. Some must have been 
exhibited with great pomp and at great expense, like 
“The Three Greatest Wonders,” each of whose three 


acts was represented in 
rate stage by a different 


84 <<] Carro del Cielo,” which Vera 
Tassis says he wrote at fourteen, and 
which we should be not a little pleased 
to see. 

85 The audience remained in the same 


the open air on a sepa- 
company of performers ; ” 


seats, but there were three stages be- 
fore them. It must have been a very 
brilliant exhibition, and is quaint- 
ly explained in the Joa prefixed to 
it. 


Cuar. XXIV. CALDERON'S CHARACTER. 481 


*and “Love the Greatest Enchantment,” brought *409 
out upon a floating theatre which the waste- 

ful extravagance of the Count Duke Olivares had 
erected on the artificial waters in the gardens of the 
Buen Retiro.” Indeed, everything shows that the 
patronage, both of the court and capital, placed Cal- 
deron forward, as the favored dramatic poet of his 
time. This rank he maintained for nearly half a 
century, and wrote his last drama, “Hado y Devisa,” 
founded on the brilliant fictions of Boiardo and Ariosto, 
when he was eighty-one years of age.” He therefore 
was not only the successor of Lope de Vega, but en- 
joyed the same kind of popular influence. Between 
them, they held the empire of the Spanish drama for 
ninety years; during which, partly by the number of 
their imitators and disciples, but chiefly by their own 
personal resources, they gave to it all the extent and 
consideration it ever possessed. 

Calderon, however, neither effected nor attempted 
any great changes in its forms. Two or three times, 
indeed, he prepared dramas that were either wholly 
sung, or partly sung and partly spoken; but even 
these, in their structure, were no more operas than 
his other plays, and were only a courtly luxury, which 
it was attempted to introduce, in imitation of the 
genuine opera just brought into France from Italy 


86 This is stated in the title, and 
gracefully alluded to at the end of the 


fully acted several times during the 
month. 


piece :— 
Fué el agua tan dichosa, 
En esta noche felice, 
_ Que merecia ser Teatro. 


The water, however, was not very 
happy or gracious the first night ; for a 
storm of wind scattered the vessels, the 
royal party, and a supper that was also 
among the floating arrangements of the 
occasion, prepared by Cosme Lotti, the 
Florentine architect. This was June 
12, 1439; but the play was success- 


Vol, II. 381 


The extravagance of some of these 
exhibitions was monstrous. The Mar- 
quis of Heliche for one royal entertain- 
ment paid sixteen thousand ducats ; 
and for another, thirty thousand. Oli- 
vares exceeded both; and to the cost 
of the drama in the palaces of Philip 
IV. there was no apparent limit. 

87 Vera Tassis makes this statement. 
See also F. W. V. Schmidt, Ueber die 
italienischen Heldengedichte, Berlin, 
1820, 12mo, pp. 269-280. 


482 CALDERON’S CHARACTER. [Perrop II. 
by Louis the Fourteenth, with whose court that of 
Spain was now intimately connected.* But this was 

all. Calderon has added to the stage no new 
*410 form of dramatic composition. Nor has *he 

much modified those forms which had been 
already arranged and settled by Lope de Vega. But 
he has shown more technical exactness in combining 
his incidents, and adjusted everything more skilfully 
for stage effect.” He has given to the whole a new 
coloring, and, in some respects, a new physiognomy. 
His drama is more poetical in its tone and tendencies, 
and has less the air of truth and reality, than that of 
his great predecessor. In its more successful portions, 
—which are rarely objectionable from their moral 
tone, — it seems almost as if we were transported to 
another and more gorgeous world, where the scenery 
is lighted up with unknown and preternatural splendor, 
and where the motives and passions of the personages 
that pass before us are so highly wrought, that we 
must have our own feelings not a little stirred and 
excited before we can take an earnest interest in what 
we witness, or sympathize in its results. But even in 
this he is successful. The buoyancy of life and spirit 
that he has infused into the gayer divisions of his 
drama, and the moving tenderness that pervades its 
graver and more tragical portions, lift us unconsciously 
to the height where alone his brilliant exhibitions can 
prevail with our imaginations, — where alone we can 
be interested and deluded, when we find ourselves in 


89 Goethe had this quality of Calde- 


8 The two decided attempts of Cal- 
deron in the opera style have already 
been noticed. The ‘‘ Laurel de Apolo” 
(Comedias, Tom. VI.) is called a Fiesta 
de Zarzuela, in which it is said (Jorn. 
I.), “Se canta y se representa” ;-— 
so that it was probably partly sung and 
partly acted. Of the Zarzuelas we must 
speak when we come to Candamo. 


ron’s drama in his mind when he said 
to Eckermann, (Gespriche mit Goethe, 
Leipzig, 1837, Band I. p. 151,) ‘‘Seine 
Stiicke sind durchaus bretterrecht, es 
ist in ihnen kein Zug, der nicht fiir 
die beabsichtigte Wirkung calculirt 
wird. Calderon ist dasjenige Genie, was 
zugleich den gréssten Verstand J atte.” 


Cuar. XXIV.] “© CALDERON’S CHARACTER. 483 


the midst, not only of such a confusion of the different 
forms of the drama, but of such a confusion of the 
proper limits of dramatic and lyrical poetry. 

To this elevated tone, and to the constant effort 
necessary in order to sustain it, we owe much of what 
distinguishes Calderon from his predecessors, and nearly 
all that is most individual and characteristic in his 
separate merits and defects. It makes him less easy, 
graceful, and natural than Lope. It imparts to his 
style a mannerism, which, notwithstanding the marvel- 
lous richness and fluency of his versification, sometimes 
wearies and sometimes offends us. It leads him 
to repeat from himself * till many of his person- * 411 
ages become standing characters, and his heroes 
and their servants, his ladies and their confidants, his 
old men and his buffoons,” seem to be produced, like 
the masked figures of the ancient theatre, to represent, 
with the same attributes and in the same costume, the 
different intrigues of his various plots. It leads him, 
in short, to regard the whole of the Spanish drama as 
a mere form, within whose limits his imagination may 
be indulged without restraint; and in which Greeks 
and Romans, heathen divinities, and the supernatural 
fictions of Christian tradition, may be all brought out 
in Spanish fashions and with Spanish feelings, and led, 
through a succession of ingenious and interesting 
adventures, to the catastrophes their stories happen to 
require. 

In carrying out this theory of the Spanish drama, 
Calderon, as we have seen, often succeeds, and often 
fails. But when he succeeds, his success is of no com- 
mon character. He then sets before us only models 


49 A good many of Calderon’s gra- ‘‘ El Alcayde de si mismo,” ‘‘Casa con 
ciosos, or buffoons, are excellent. as, for Dos Puertas,” ‘‘ La Gran Zenobia,” 
instance, those in ‘‘ La Vidaes Suefio,” ‘*La Dama Duende,” etc. 


CALDERON’S CHARACTER. 


484 [Periop II. 


of ideal beauty, perfection, and splendor ;— a world, 
he would have it, into which nothing should enter but 
the highest elements of the national genius. There, 
the fervid, yet grave, enthusiasm of the old Castilian 
heroism ; the chivalrous adventures of modern, courtly 
honor ; the generous self-devotion of individual loyalty; 
and that reserved, but passionate love, which, in a state 
of society where it was so rigorously withdrawn from 
notice, became a kind of unacknowledged religion of 
the heart ;—all seem to find their appropriate home. 
And when he has once brought us into this land of 
enchantment, whose glowing impossibilities his own 
genius has created, and has called around him forms 
of such grace and loveliness as those of Clara and 
Dofia Angela, or heroic forms like those of Tuzani, 
Mariamne, and Don Ferdinand, then he has reached 
the highest point he ever attained, or ever proposed to 
himself;— he has set before us the grand show of 

an idealized drama, resting on the purest and 
* 412 *noblest elements of the Spanish national char- 

acter, and one which, with all its unquestionable 
defects, is to be placed among the extraordinary phe- 
nomena of modern poetry.” 


41 Calderon, like many other authors 
of the Spanish theatre, has, as we have 
seen, been a magazine of plots for the 
dramatists of other nations. Among 
those who have borrowed the most from 
him are the younger Corneille and Goz- 
zi. Thus, Corneille’s ‘‘ Engagements 
du Hasard” is from ‘‘ Los Empefios de 
un Acaso”; ‘‘Le Feint Astrologue,” 
from ‘‘ El Astrélogo Fingido”; ‘‘ Le 
Géolier de soi méme,” from ‘‘ El Al- 
cayde de si mismo”; besides which, his 
‘*Circe” and ‘*‘L’Inconnu” prove that 
he had well studied Calderon’s show 
pieces. Gozzi took his ‘‘ Publico Se- 
creto” from the ‘Secreto & Voces” ; 
his ‘‘ Eco e Narciso” from the play of 
the same name; and his ‘‘ Due Notti 


Affanose” from ‘‘Gustos y Disgustos.” 
And so of others. 

I have had occasion to speak of sev- 
eral of the translations of Calderon, and 
perhaps should add here a few words 
on the principal of them, with their 
dates. A. W. Schlegel, 1803-1809, 
enlarged 1845, 2 vols. ;— Gries, 1815 - 
1842, 8 vols. ;— Malsburg, 1819-1825, 
6 vols. ;— Martin, 1844, 2 vols. ;— 
Kichendorff, Geistliche Schauspiele, (ten 
Autos,) 1846-1853, 2 vols. ;— two 
plays by a Lady, 1851 ;—a single one 
by Cardinal Diepenbrock, 1852 ;— 
and an Auto by Franz Lorinser, 1855 ; 
—all in German, and almost uniformly 
in the measures and manner of their 
originals. In Jéalian, fifteen plays, se- 


Cuar. XXIV.] CALDERON’S 


lected with care, are translated by Pie- 
tro Monti, all but the ‘‘ Principe Con- 
stante”’ in prose, in his Teatro Scelto, 
4 vols., 1855. In French, Damas-Hi- 
nard, 3 vols., 1841-1844, in prose. 
In English, six dramas by Edward Fitz- 
gerald, 1853, and six more, the same 
year, by Denis Florence McCarthy, 2 
vols., whose version, often made in the 
measures of the original, will, I think, 
give an English reader a nearer idea of 
Calderon’s versification than he will 
readily obtain elsewhere, and whose 
Preface will direct him to the other 
sources in our own language. But 
those of Fitzgerald are good, although 
they are in blank verse ; so choice and 
charming is his poetical language. In- 
deed, I doubt whether the short Span- 
ish measures can be made effective in 
English dramatic composition. The 
best attempt known to me is in Trench’s 
translation of ‘‘ La Vida es Sueno,” at 
the end of a little volume on Calderon’s 
Life and Genius, printed both in Lon- 
don and New York, in 1856. 

Since the preceding note was pub- 
lished, Mr. McCarthy has given to the 
world translations of two plays and an 
auto of Calderon, under the title of 
“* Love, the greatest Enchantment ; the 
Sorceries of Sin; the Devotion of the 
Cross ; from the Spanish of Calderon, 
attempted strictly in the Spanish Aso- 


CHARACTER. 485 


nante and other imitative Verse,” 1861 ; 
printing, at the same time, a care- 
fully corrected text of the Spanish 
originals, page by page, opposite to 
his translations. It is, I think, one 
of the boldest attempts ever made in 
English verse. It is, too, as it seems to 
me, remarkably successful. Not that 
asonantes can be made fluent and grace- 
ful in English verse, or easily percep- 
tible to an English ear, but that the 
Spanish air and character of Calderon 
are so happily and strikingly preserved. 
Previous to the two volumes noted 
above, the ‘‘Sorceries of Sin” had ap- 
peared in the ‘‘ Atlantis,” 1859; but 
in the present volume Mr. McCarthy 
has far surpassed all he had previously 
done ; for Calderon is a poet who, 
whenever he is translated, should have 
his. very excesses and extravagances, 
both in thought and manner, fully 
produced in order to give a faithful 
idea of what is grandest and most 
distinctive in his genius. Mr. McCar- 
thy has done this, I conceive, to a 
degree which I had previously sup- 
posed impossible. Nothing, I think, 
in the English language will give us 
so true an impression of what is most 
characteristic of the Spanish drama, 
perhaps I ought to say of what is 
most characteristic of Spanish poetry 
generally. 


* 413 "CH APN ivi 


DRAMA AFTER CALDERON.—MORETO.—COMEDIAS DE FIGURON. — ROXAS. — 
PLAYS BY MORE THAN ONE AUTHOR. — CUBILLO. — LEYBA. — CANCER. — 
ENRIQUEZ GOMEZ. — SIGLER. — ZARATE. — BARRIOS. — DIAMANTE. — HOZ. 
— MATOS FRAGOSO. — SOL{S. — CANDAMO.— ZARZUELAS. — ZAMORA. — CANI- 
ZARES, AND OTHERS.— DECLINE OF THE SPANISH DRAMA. 


Tue most brilliant period of the Spanish drama falls 
within the reign of Philip the Fourth, which extended 
from 1621 to 1665, and embraced the last fourteen 
years of the life of Lope de Vega, and the thirty most 
fortunate years of the life of Calderon. But after this 
period a change begins to be apparent; for the school 
of Lope was that of a drama in the freshness and buoy- 
ancy of youth, while the school of Calderon belongs 
to the season of its maturity and gradual decay. Not 
that this change is strongly marked during Calderon’s 
life. On the contrary, so long as he lived, and espe- 
cially during the reign of his great patron, there is 
little visible decline in the dramatic poetry of Spain; 
though still, through the crowd of its disciples and 
amidst the shouts of admiration that followed it on the 
stage, the symptoms of its coming fate may be dis- 
cerned. 

Of those that divided the favor of the public with 
their great master, none stood so near to him as Agus- 
tin Moreto, of whom we know much less than would be 
important to the history of the Spanish drama. He 
was born at Madrid, and was baptized on the 9th of 
April, 1618. His best studies were no doubt those he. 
made at Alcala, between 1634 and 1639. Later he 


Cuap. XXV.] MORETO. AS87 
removed to Toledo, and entered the household of the 
Cardinal Archbishop, taking holy orders, and 
joining a brotherhood as early *as 1659. Ten * 414 
years later, in 1669, he died, only fifty-one years 

old, leaving whatever of property he possessed to the 
poor.’ 

Three volumes of his plays, and a number more 
never collected into a volume, were printed between 
1654 and 1681, though he himself seems to have 
regarded them, during the greater part of that time, 
only as specious follies or sins. ‘They-are in all the 
different forms known to the age to which they belong, 
and, as in the case of Calderon, each form melts imper- 
ceptibly into the character of some other. But the 
theatre was not then so strictly watched as it had 
been; and the religious plays Moreto has left us are, 
perhaps on this account, oftener connected with known 
facts in the lives of saints, and with known events in 
history, like “The Most Fortunate Brothers,” which 
contains the story of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, 


1 The little we know of Moreto has 
been discovered or carefully collected 
by Don Luis Fernandez Guerra y Orbe, 
and is to be found in his excellent edi- 
tion of the ‘‘Comedias Escogidas”’ of 
Moreto, filling Volume XXXIX. of the 
Biblioteca de Autores Espafioles, 1856. 
The story that Moreto was concerned 
in the violent death of Medinilla, as 
suggested by Ochoa, (Teatro Espafiol, 
Paris, Tom. IV., 1838, p. 248,) always 
incredible, gets its coup de grace from 
the date of Moreto’s birth, settled 
by Don Luis to have occurred in 
1618, only two years before Medinilla’s 
death. 

As to Moreto’s works, I possess his 
Comedias, Tom. I., Madrid, 1677 (of 
which Antonio notes an edition in 
1654); Tom. II., Valencia, 1676; and 
Tom. III., Madrid, 1681, ali in 4to ;— 
besides which I have about a dozen of 
his plays, found in none of them. Mo- 
reto appears as a known author in the 


Lagrimas Panegiricas on Montalvan, 
1639 (f. 48, a) ; and, two years after his 
death, in the ‘‘Comedias Escogidas de 
los Mejores Ingenios,” Tom. XXXVI., 
Madrid, 1671, we have the ‘‘ Santa Rosa 
del Pert,” the first two acts of which 
are said to have been his last work, the 
remaining act being by Lanini, but 
with no intimation when Moreto wrote 
the two others. This old collection of 
Comedias Escogidas contains forty-six 
plays attributed in whole or in part to 
Moreto, — a strong proof of his great 
popularity ; but one of them, at least, 
is not his. I mean the ‘‘Condesa de 
Belflor,” (in Tom. XXV., 1666, f. 18,) 
which is neither more nor less than 
Lope’s well-known ‘‘ Perro del Horte- 
lano.” The earliest play known to me 
to have been published by Moreto is 
‘‘Loque merece un soldado” in Difer- 
entes Comedias, Tom. XLIY., 1650, 
which I possess. 


488 MORETO. (Perrop II. - 


both before they were enclosed in the cave and when 
they awoke from their miraculous repose of two cen- 
turies.2 <A few are heroic, such as “The Brave Justi- 
ciary of Castile,’ -—a drama of spirit and power, on 
the character of Peter the Cruel, though, like most 
other plays in which that monarch appears, it is not 
one in which the truth of history is respected. 
*415 But,in general, Moreto’s dramas are of the* old 
cavalier class ; and when they are not, they take, 
in order to suit the humor of the time, many of the 
characteristics of this truly national form. 

In one point, however, he made, if not a change in 
the direction of the drama of his predecessors, yet an 
advance upon it. He devoted himself more to char- 
acter-drawing, and often succeeded better in it than 
they had. His first play of this kind was “The Aunt 
and the Niece,” printed as early as 1654. The char- 
acters are a widow,— extremely anxious to be mar- 
ried, but foolishly jealous of the charms of her niece, 
— and a vaporing, epicurean officer in the army, who 
cheats the elder lady with flattery, while he wins the 
younger. It is curious to observe, however, that the 
hint for this drama — which is the oldest of the class 
called jiguron, from the prominence of one not very dig- 
nified jigure in it —is yet to be found in Lope de Vega, 
to whom, as we have seen, is to be traced, directly or 
indirectly, almost every form and shade of dramatic 
composition that finally succeeded on the Spanish 
stage? 

Moreto’s next attempt of the same sort is even 
better known, “The Handsome Don Diego,’ —a 


2 “Los mas Dichosos Hermanos.” tempt at the preservation of the truth 
It is the first play in the third volume; of history in its accompaniments than 
and though it does not correspond in is common in the old Spanish drama. 
its story with the beautiful legend as 3 Comedias de Lope de Vega, Tom. 
Gibbon gives it, there is a greater at- XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641, f. 16. 


Cuap. XXV.] MORETO. 489 


phrase that has become a national proverb.’ It sets 
forth with great spirit the character of a fop, who 
believes that every lady he looks upon must fall in 
love with him. The very first sketch of him at his 
morning toilet, and the exhibition of the sincere con- 
tempt he feels for the more sensible lover, who refuses 
to take such frivolous care of his person, are full of 
life and truth; and the whole ends, with appropriate 
justice, by his being deluded into a marriage with a 
cunning waiting-maid, who is passed off upon him as 
a rich countess. 

Some of Moreto’s plays, as, for instance, his “ Trampa 
Adelante,” obtained the name of gracioso, because the 
buffoon is made the character upon whom the action 
turns; and in one case, at least, he wrote a bur- 
lesque * farce of no value, taking his subject * 416 
from the achievements of the Cid. But his 
general tone is that of the old intriguing comedy; and 
though he is sometimes indebted for his plots to his 
predecessors, and especially to Lope, yet, in nearly 
every instance, and perhaps in every one, he surpassed 
his model, and the drama he wrote superseded on the 
public stage the one he imitated. 

This was the case with the best of all his plays, 
“Disdain met with Disdain,” for the idea of which he 
was indebted to Lope, whose “ Miracles of Contempt”’ 


# **F] lindo Don Diego.” But lindo in Martinez de la Rosa, Obras, Paris, 


was not, I think, then used commonly 
in a disparaging or doubtful sense. 
The Infanta and her father Philip IV. 
called Louis XIV. ‘‘ lindo” when they 
first saw him at the Isle of Conferences 
before the marriage in 1660. Mad. de 
Motteville, Mémoires, Tom. V., 1750, 
pp. 398, 401. 

5 «The Aunt and the Niece” is from 
Lope’s ‘* De quando aca nos Vino,” and 
**It cannot be” from his ‘*‘ Mayor Im- 
possible.” There are good remarks on 
these and other of Moreto’s imitations 


1827, 12mo, Tom. Il. pp. 448-446. 
But the excuses there given for him 
hardly cover such a plagiarism as his 
‘*Valiente Justiciero” is, from Lope’s 
‘*Infanzon de Illescas.” Cancer y Ve- 
lasco, a contemporary poet, in a little 
jew esprit represents Moreto as sitting 
down with a bundle of old plays to see 
what he can cunningly steal out of 
them, spoiling all he steals. (Obras, 
Madrid, 1761, 4to, p. 113.) But in 
this Cancer was unjust to Moreto’s tal- 
ent, if not to his honesty. 


490 MORETO. (Periop Il. 


has long been forgotten as an acting play, while Mo- 
reto’s still maintains its place on the Spanish stage, 
of which it is one of the brightest ornaments.® The 
plot is remarkably simple and well contrived. Diana, 
heiress to the county of Barcelona, laughs at love and 
refuses marriage, under whatever form it may be urged 
upon her. Her father, whose projects are unreasonably 
thwarted by such conduct, induces the best and gayest 
of the neighboring princes to come to his court, and 
engage in tournaments and other knightly sports, in 
order to win her favor. She, however, treats them all 
with an equal coldness, and even with a pettish dis- 
dain, until, at last, she is piqued into admiration of the 
Count of Urgel, by his apparent neglect, which he skil- 
fully places on the ground of a contempt like her own 
for all love, but which, in fact, only conceals a deep and 
faithful passion for herself. : 

* The charm of the piece consists in the poeti- 
cal spirit with which this design is wrought out. 
The character of the gracioso is well drawn and well 
defined, and, as in most Spanish plays, he is his lord’s 
confidant, and by his shrewdness materially helps on 
the action. At the opening, after having heard from 
his master the position of affairs and the humors of the 
lady, he gives his advice in the following lines, which 
embody the entire argument of the drama : — 


* 417 


My lord, your case I have discreetly heard, 
And find it neither wonderful nor new ; — 


® In 1664 Moliére imitated the ‘‘Des- 
den con el Desden” in his ‘‘ Princesse 
d’Elide,” which was represented at Ver- 
sailles by the command of Louis XIV., 
with great splendor, before his queen 
and his mother, both Spanish prin- 
cesses. The compliment, as far as the 
king was concerned in it, was a mag- 
nificent one ; — on Moliére’s part it was 
a failure, and his play is now no longer 
acted. The original drama of Moreto, 


however, is known wherever the Span- 
ish language is spoken, and a good trans- 
lation of it into German is common on 
the German stage. Another and differ- 
ent translation in Dohrn’s ‘‘Spanische 
Dramen,” (Tom. II., 1842,) preserving 
the measures of the original, — rhymes 
and asonantes, — seems to me quite re- 
markable. In the same volume, too, is 
an equally good translation of Lope de 
Vega’s ‘*‘ Milagros del Desprecio.” 


Cur. XXV.] ROXAS. 49] 


In short, it is an every-day affair. 

Why, look ye, now! In my young boyhood, sir, — 
When the full vintage came and grapes were strewed, 
Yea, wasted, on the ground, —.I had, be sure, 

No appetite at all. But afterwards, 

When they were gathered in for winter’s use, 

And hung aloft upon the kitchen rafters, 

Then nothing looked so tempting half as they ; 
And, climbing cunningly to reach them there, 

I caught a pretty fall and broke my ribs. 

Now, this, sir, is your case, — the very same.? 


There is an excellent scene, in which the Count, 
perceiving he has made an impression on the lady’s 
heart, fairly confesses his love, while she, who is not 
yet entirely subdued, is able to turn round and treat 
him with her accustomed disdain; from all which he 
recovers himself with an address greater than her own, 
protesting his very confession to have been only a part 
of the show they were by agreement carrying on. 
But this confirms the lady’s passion, which at last 
becomes uncontrollable, and the catastrophe imme- 
diately follows. She pleads guilty to a desperate love, 
and marries him. | 

Contemporary with Moreto, and nearly as successful 
among the earlier writers for the stage, was 
Francisco * de Roxas, who flourished during the * 418 
greater part of Calderon’s life, and may have 
survived him. He was born in Toledo in 1607, and in 
1641 was made a knight of the Order of Santiago, but 
when he died is not known. Two volumes of his 
plays were published in 1640 and 1645, and in the 
Prologue to the second he speaks of publishing yet a 


7 Atento, Senor, he estado, Colgaron en la cocina 
Y el succeso no me admira, Las ubas para el Inuierno ; 
Porque esso, Senor, es cosa, Y yo viendolas arriba, 
Que sucede cada dia. Rabiaua por comer dellas, 
Mira ; siendo yo muchacho, Tanto que, trepando un dia 
Auia en mi casa vendimia, Por aleancarlas, cai, 
Y por el suelo las ubas Y me quebré las costillas, 
Nunca me dauan codicia. Este es el caso, el por el. 


Passo este tiempo, y despues Jorn. I. 


492 ROXAS. (Perron II. 


third, which never appeared; so that we have still 
only the twenty-four plays contained in these vol- 
umes, and a few others that at different times were 
printed separately. He belongs, decidedly to Cal- 
deron’s school, —unless, indeed, he began his career 
too early to be a mere follower; and in poetical merit, 
if not in dramatic skill, takes one of the next places 
after Moreto. But he is very careless and unequal. 
His plays entitled “He who is a King must not be a 
Father ” and “ The Aspics of Cleopatra ”’ are as extrav- 
agant as almost anything in the Spanish heroic drama ; 
while, on the other hand, “ What Women really are” 
and “ Folly rules here” are among the most effective 
of the class of intriguing comedies.’ In general, he is 
most successful when his tone tends towards tragedy. 
His best play, and one that has always kept its place 
on the stage, is called “None below the King.” The 
scene is laid in the troublesome times “of Alfonso the 
Eleventh, and is in many respects true to them. Don 
Garcia, the hero, is a son of Garci Bermudo, who had 
conspired against the father of the reigning mon- 
arch, and, in consequence of this circumstance, Garcia 
lives concealed as a peasant at Castaftiar, near To- 
ledo, very rich, but unsuspected by the government. 


8 From a notice by Vera Tassis pre- 
fixed to the first volume of Calderon’s 
Comedias, 1685, I infer that a play of 
Roxas was printed as early as 1635. 
Both volumes of the Comedias de Roxas 
were reprinted, Madrid, 1680, 4to, and 
both their Licencias are dated on the 
same day; but the publisher of the 
first, who dedicates it to a distinguished 
nobleman, is the same person to whom 
the second is dedicated by the printer 
of both. Autos of Roxas may be found 
in ‘‘Autos, Loas, etc.,” 1655, and in 
‘Navidad y‘Corpus Christi Festejados,” 
collected by Pedro de Robles, 1664. 
But they are no better than those of 
his contemporaries generally. 


Concerning an attempt to assassinate 
Roxas in 1638, and concerning the prob- 
able time of his death, see some curious 
facts in Schack’s Nachtrage, p. 90. 
But it is doubtful, I think, whether 
this Roxas, to whom Schack refers, was 
the dramatist. 

® His ‘‘Persiles y Sigismunda” is 
from Cervantes’s novel of the same 
name. On the other hand, his ‘‘Ca- 
sarse por vengarse’”’ is plundered, with- 
out ceremony, for the story of ‘‘Le 
Mariage de Vengeance,” (Gil Blas, Liv. 
IV. c. 4,) by Le Sage, who never 
neglected a good opportunity of the 
sort. 


Cuar. XXV.] ROXAS. 493 


*In a period of great anxiety, when the king * 419 
wishes to take Algeziras from the Moors, and 
demands, for that purpose, free contributions from his 
subjects, those of Garcia are so ample as to attract 
especial attention. The king inquires who is this rich 
and loyal peasant; and his curiosity being still further 
excited by the answer, he determines to visit him at 
Castafiar, ¢zcogmto, accompanied by only two or three 
favored courtiers. Garcia, however, is privately advised 
of the honor that awaits him, but, from an error in the 
description, mistakes the person of one of the attend- 
ants for that of the king himself. : 

On this mistake the plot turns. The courtier whom 
Garcia wrongly supposes to be the king falls in love 
with Blanca, Garcia’s wife ; and, in attempting to enter 
her apartments by night, when he believes her hus- 
band to be away, is detected by the husband in person. 
Now, of course, comes the struggle between Spanish 
loyalty and Spanish honor. Garcia can visit no ven- 
geance on a person whom he believes to be his king; 
and he has not the slightest suspicion of his wife, 
whom he knows to be faithfully and fondly attached 
to him. But the remotest appearance of an intrigue 
demands a bloody satisfaction. He determines, there- 
fore, at once, on the death of his loving wife. Amidst 
his misgivings and delays, however, she escapes, and 
is carried to court, whither he himself is, at the same 
moment, called to receive the greatest honors that can 
be conferred on a subject. In the royal presence, he 
necessarily discovers his mistake regarding the king’s 
person. From this moment, the case becomes perfectly 
plain to him, and his course perfectly simple. He 
passes instantly into the antechamber. With a single 
blow his victim is laid at his feet; and he returns, 


494 PLAYS BY SEVERAL AUTHORS. [Perron II. 


sheathing his bloody dagger, and offering, as his only 
and sufficient defence, an account of all that had hap- 
pened, and the declaration, which gives its name to the 
play, that “none below the king” can be permitted to 
stand between him and the claims of his honor. 

Few dramas in the Spanish language are more poet- 

ical; fewer still, more national in their tone. 
*420 The character of * Garcia is drawn with great 

vigor, and with a sharply defined outline. That 
of his wife is equally well designed, but is full of 
gentleness and patience. Even the clown is a more 
than commonly happy specimen of the sort of parody 
suitable to his position. Some of the descriptions, too, 
are excellent. There is a charming one of rustic life, 
such as it was fancied to be under the most favorable 
circumstances in Spain’s best days; and, at the end of 
the second act, there is a scene between Garcia and 
the courtier, at the moment the courtier is stealthily 
entering his wife’s apartment, in which we have the 
struggle between Spanish honor and Spanish loyalty 
given with a truth and spirit that leave little to be 
desired. In short, if we set aside the best plays of 
Lope de Vega and Calderon, it is one of the most 
effective of the old Spanish theatre.” 

Roxas was well known in France. Thomas Corneille 
imitated, and almost translated, one of his plays; and 
as Searron, in his “ Jodelet,” did the same with “ Where - 
there are real Wrongs there is no Jealousy,” the second 
comedy that has kept its place on the French stage is 
due to Spain, as the first tragedy and the first comedy 
had been before it.” 

10 «Del Rey abaxo Ninguno” has _ is no doubt who wrote it. It is, how- 
been sometimes printed with the name ever, among the Comedias Sueltas of 


of Calderon, who might well be content Roxas, and not in his collected works. 
to be regarded as its author; but there 11 T, Corneille’s play is ‘‘Don Ber- 


Crap. XXV.] CUBILLO. 495 


Like many writers for the Spanish theatre, Roxas 
prepared several of his plays in conjunction with 
others. Franchi, in his eulogy on Lope de Vega, com- 
plains of it, and says that a drama thus compounded 
is more like a conspiracy than a comedy, and that such 
performances were, in their different parts, necessarily 
unequal and dissimilar. But this was not the general 
opinion of his age; and that the complaint is not 
always well founded, we know, not only from the ex- 
ample of Beaumont and Fletcher, but from the suc- 
cess that has attended the composition of many 
dramas in France in *the nineteenth century * 421 
by more than one person. It should not be 
forgotten, also, that in Spain, where, from the very 
structure of the national drama, the story was of so 
much consequence, and where so many of the char- 
acters had standing attributes assigned to them, such 
joint partnerships were more easily carried through 
with success than they could be on any other stage. 
At any rate, they were more common there than they 
have ever been elsewhere.” 

Alvaro Cubillo, who alludes to Moreto as his con- 
temporary, and who was perhaps known even earlier 
as a successful dramatist, said, in 1654, that he had 
already written a hundred plays. But the whole of 
this great number, except ten published by himself, 
and a few others that appeared, if we may judge by 


In the large 


trand de Cigarral,” (Huvres, Paris, 1758, 
12mo, Tom. I. p. 209,) and his obliga- 
tions are avowed in the Dedication. 
Scarron’s ‘‘Jodelet’”? (Ciuvres, Paris, 
1752, 12mo, Tom. II. p. 73) is a spirited 
comedy, desperately indebted to Roxas. 
But Scarron constantly borrowed from 
the Spanish theatre. 

22 Three persons were frequently em- 
ployed on one drama, dividing its com- 
position among them, according to its 


three regular jornadas. 
collection of Comedias printed in the 
latter half of the seventeenth century, 
in forty-eight volumes, there are, I 
think, about thirty such plays. Two 
are by six persons each. One, in honor 
of the Marquis Cafiete, is the work of 
nine different poets, but it is not in any 
collection; it is printed separately, and 
better than was usual, Madrid, 1622, 
4to. 


496 [Preriop II. 


CUBILLO. 


his complaints, without his permission, are now lost. 
Of those he published himself, “The Thunderbolt of 
Andalusia,’ in two parts, taken from the old ballads 
about the “Infantes de Lara,” was much admired in his 
lifetime ; but “ Marcela’s Dolls,” a simple comedy, 
resting on the first childlike love of a young girl, 
has since quite supplanted it. One of his plays, 
“Kl Sefior de Noches Buenas,’ was early printed 
as Antonio de Mendoza’s, but Cubillo at once made 
good his title to it; and yet, after the death of both, 
it was inserted anew in Mendoza’s works;— a strik- 
ing proof of the great carelessness long common in 
Spain on the subject of authorship. | 
None of Cubillo’s plays has high poetical merit, 
though several of them are pleasant, easy, and nat- 
ural. The best is “The Perfect Wife,’ in which the 
gentle and faithful character of the heroine is drawn 
with skill, and with a true conception of what is lovely 
in woman’s nature. Two of his religious plays, on 
the other hand, are more than commonly extravagant 
and absurd ; one of them — “Saint Michael ” — 
* 422 containing, in the first act, the story * of Cain 
and Abel; in the second, that of Jonah; and 
in the third, that of the Visigoth king, Bamba, with 
a sort of separate conclusion in the form of a vision 
of the times of Charles the Fifth and his three suc- 
cessors. 
But the Spanish stage, as we advance in Calderon’s 


published as early as 1625, and which 


13 The plays of Cubillo that I have 
seen are, —ten in his ‘‘ Enano de las 
Musas” (Madrid, 1654, 4to); five in 
the Comedias Escogidas, printed as early 
as 1660; and two or three more scat- 
tered elsewhere. The ‘‘Enano de las 
Musas”’ is a collection of his works, 
containing many ballads, sonnets, etc., 
and an allegorical poem on ‘‘The Court 
of the Lion,” which, Antonio says, was 


seems to have been liked, and to have 
gone through several editions. But 
none of Cubillo’s poetry is so good as 
his plays. See Prologo and Dedication 
to the Enano, and Montalvan’s list of 
writers for the stage at the end of his 
*‘Para Todos.” Cubillo was alive in 
1660. 


Cuap. XXV.] VARIOUS DRAMATISTS. 497 


life, becomes more and more crowded with dramatic 
authors, all eager in their struggles for popular favor. 
One of them was Francisco de Leyba, or Leira, whose 
“Mutius Sceevola” is an absurdly constructed and wild 
historical play ; while, on the contrary, his “ Honor the 
First Thing” and “ The Lady President” are pleasant 
comedies, enlivened with short stories and apologues, 
which he wrote with naturalness and point.* Another 
dramatist was Cancer y Velasco, whose poems are bet- 
ter known than his plays, and whose “Muerte de Bal- 
dovinos” runs more into caricature and broad farce 
than was commonly tolerated in the court theatre.” 
And yet others were Antonio Enriquez Gomez, son of 
a Portuguese Jew, who wrote twenty-two plays, 

but inserted in his “ Moral Evenings with * the * 423 
Muses” *° 


1* There are a few of Leyba’s plays in 
a collection published at Madrid, 1826 - 
1834, and in the Comedias Escogidas, 
and I possess a few of them in pam- 
phlets. But I do not know how many 
he wrote, and I have no notices of his 
life. He is sometimes called Antonio 
de Leyba; unless, indeed, there were 
two of the same surname. 

15 Obras de Don Gerdnimo Cancer y 
Velasco, Madrid, 1761, 4to. The first 
edition is of 1651, and Antonio sets his 
death at 1655. In a broadside which 
I possess, issued 24th May, 1781, by 
the Inquisition at Seville, the ‘‘ Muerte 
de Baldovinos” is prohibited ‘‘ por es- 
candalosa y obscena,” and in the Index 
of 1790, this drama, the ‘* Vandolero 
de Flandes,” and finally the ‘‘Obras de 
Cancer,” are all, in separate articles, 
put under censure. A play, however, 
which he wrote in conjunction with 
Pedro Rosete and Antonio Martinez, 
was evidently intended to conciliate the 
Church, and well calculated for its pur- 
pose. It is called ‘‘E] Mejor Represen- 
tante San Gines,” and is found in Tom. 
XXIX., 1668, of the Comedias Escogi- 
das, (slightly perhaps indebted to Lope’s 
**Fingido Verdadero,”) — San Gines 
being a Roman actor, converted to 

VOL. II. 32 


only four, all of little value, except 


Christianity, and undergoing martyr- 
dom in the presence of the spectators 
in consequence of being called on to act 
a play written by Polycarp, which was 
ingeniously constructed so as to defend 
the Christians. The tradition is absurd 
enough certainly, but the drama may 
be read with interest throughout, and 
parts of it with pleasure. It has a love- 
intrigue brought in with skill. Cancer, 
I believe, wrote plays without assist- 
ance only once or twice. Certainly, 
twelve written in conjunction with Mo- 
reto, Matos Fragoso, and others, are all 
by him that are found in the Comedias 
Escogidas. Five entremeses by him, 
printed in 1659, are in a volume in the 
Bibliothéque de l’ Arsenal at Paris, which 
contains others by Pedro Rosete, Luis 
Velez, Andres Gil Enriquez, and Anto- 
nio Solis. . 

16 “* Academias Morales de las Mu- 
sas,” Madrid, 4to, 1660; but my copy 
was printed at Barcelona, 1704, 4to. 
See, too, in the Prélogo” to his ‘‘ San- 
son,” Ruan, 1656, the titles of his 
twenty-two + plays. He wrote other 
works, ‘‘ Politica Angelica,” Rohan, 
1647; ‘‘Luis Dado de Dios,” Paris, 
1645, vetc. 


498 ZARATE. [Periop IL. 


“The Duties of Honor” ; — Antonio Sigler de Huerta, 
who wrote “No Good to Ourselves without Harm to 
Somebody Hlse”’;— and Zabaleta, who, though he 
made a satirical and harsh attack upon the theatre, 
could not refuse himself the indulgence of writing for 
it. 1 

If we now turn from these to a few whose success 
was more strongly marked, none presents himself 
earlier than Fernando de Zarate, a poet who was 
much misled by the bad taste of his time, though 
his talent was such that he ought to have resisted 
it. Thus this eminently Spanish folly is very ob- 
vious in his best plays, as, for instance, in his other- 
wise good drama, “He that talks Most does Least,” 
and even in his “ Presumptuous and Beautiful,” 
which has continued to be acted down to our own 


days.* 


17 «Flor de las Mejores Comedias,” 
Madrid, 1652, 4to. Baena, Hijos de 
Madrid, Tom. III. p. 227. A consid- 
erable number of the plays of Zabaleta 
may be seen in the forty-eight volumes 
of the Comedias Escogidas, 1652, ete. 
One of them, ‘‘El Hijo de Marco Au- 
relio,”’ on the subject of the Emperor 
Commodus, was acted in 1644, and, as 
the author tells us, being received with 
little favor, and complaints being made 
that it was not founded in truth, he 
began at once a life of that Emperor, 
which he calls a translation from Hero- 
dian, but which has claims neither to 
fidelity in its version, nor to purity in 
its style. It remained long unfinished, 
until one morning in 1664, waking up 
and finding himself struck entirely 
blind, he began, ‘‘as on an elevation,” 
to look round for some occupation suited 
to his solitude and affliction. His play 
had been printed in 1658, in the tenth 
volume of the Comedias Escogidas, and 
he now completed the work that was to 
justify it, and published it*in 1666, an- 
nouncing himself on the title-page as a 
royal chronicler. But it failed, as his 
drama had failed before it. In the 
“*Vexamen de Ingenios” of Cancer, 


where the failure of another of Zaba- 
leta’s plays is noticed, (Obras de Can- 
cer, Madrid, 1761, 4to, p. 111,) a pun- 
ning epigram is inserted on his personal 
ugliness, the amount of which is, that, 
though his play was dear at the price 
paid for a ticket, his face would repay 
the loss to those who should look on it. 

18 The plays of Zarate are, I believe, 
easiest found in the Comedias Escogi- 
das, where twenty-three or more of 
them occur ; — the earliest in Tom. 
XIV., 1661; and ‘‘Quien habla mas 
obra menos” in Tom. XLIV. In the 
Index Expurgatorius of 1790, p. 288, 
it is intimated that Fernando de Zarate 
is the same person with Antonio En- 
riquez Gomez;—a mistake founded, 
probably, on the circumstance, that a 
play of Enriquez Gomez, who was of 
Jewish descent, was printed with the 
name of Zarate attached to it, as others 
ot his plays were printed with the name 
of Calderon. Amador de los Rios, Ju- 
dios de Espafia, Madrid, 1848, 8vo, p. 
575. Besides, Schack found an auto- 
graph play of Zarate in Duran’s collec- 
tion, (Nachtrige, p. 61,) proving, of 
course, that Zarate was a real person ; 
and the play printed as Zarate’s, which 


Cnar. XXV.] BARRIOS. — DIAMANTE. 499 


* Another of the writers for the theatre at * 424 
this time was Miguel de Barrios, one of those 
unhappy children of Israel, who, under the terrors of 
the Inquisition, concealed their religion, and suffered 
some of the worst penalties of unbelief from the jeal- 
ous intolerance which everywhere watched them. His 
family was Portuguese, but he himself was born in 
Spain, and served long in the Spanish armies. At last, 
however, when he was in Flanders, the temptations 
to a peaceful conscience were too strong for him. He 
escaped to: Amsterdam, and died there in the open 
profession of the faith of his fathers, about the year 


1699. 


His plays were printed as early as 1665, but 


the only one worth notice is “ The Spaniard in Oran ” ; 

longer than it should be, but not without merit.” 
Diamante was among those who wrote dramas espe- 

cially accommodated to the popular taste, while Cal- 


deron was still at the height of his reputation. 
Two volumes were collected 


number is considerable. 


Their 


by him and published in 1670 and 1674, and yet many 
others still remain in scattered pamphlets and in manu- 


script.” They are in all 


has caused, I suppose, this confusion, 
is ‘‘Lo que obligan los Zelos,” and is 
distinctly claimed as his own by En- 
riquez Gomez in the Prologo ‘to his 
** Sanson,” which, of course, he would 
not have done if Zarate were merely his 
own pseudonyme. All that is said, to 
prove Zarate and Enriquez Gomez to be 
the same person, by Castro, in the Bib- 
lioteca of Rivadeneyra, (Tom. XVII. 
pp. Ixxxix, xc,) goes, therefore, for 
nothing. 

19 His ‘*Coro de las Musas,” at the 
end of which his plays are commonly 
added separately, was printed at Brus- 
sels in 1665, 4to, and in 1672. In my 
copy, which is of the first edition, and 
which once belonged to Mr. Southey, 
is the following characteristic note in 
his handwriting: ‘‘ Among the Lans- 
downe MSS. is a volume of poems by 


the forms, and in all the 


this author, who, being a ‘ New Chris- 
tian,’ was happy enough to get into a 
country where he could profess himself 
a Jew.” There is a long notice of him 
in Barbosa, Biblioteca Lusitana, Tom. 
III. p. 464, and a still longer one in 
Amador de los Rios, Judios de Espafia, 
Madrid, 1848, pp. 608, ete. 

20 The ‘‘Comedias de Diamante” are 
in two volumes, 4to, Madrid, 1670 and 
1674; but in the first volume eight 
plays are paged together, and for the 
four others there is a separate paging ; 
though, as the whole twelve are recog- 
nized in the Tassa and in the table of 
contents, they are no doubt all his. 
There is a MS. play of his in the col- 
lection of the Duke of Ossuna, dated 
May 25, 1656, and he seems to have 
been alive in 1684. He was born at 
Madrid in 1626. 


500 DIAMANTE. [Periop II. 
varieties of tone, then in favor. Some of them, like 
‘‘Santa Teresa,” are religious. Others are historical, 
like “Mary Stuart.” Others are taken from the old 
national traditions, like “The Siege of Zamora,” which 
is on the same subject with the second part of Guillen 
de Castro’s “ Cid,” but much less poetical. Oth- 
*425 ers are *zarzuelas, or dramas chiefly sung, of 
which the best specimen by Diamante is his 
“Alpheus and Arethusa,” prepared with an amus- 
ing Joa in honor of the Constable of Castile. There 
are more in the style of the capa y espada than in any 
other. But none of them has any marked merit. The 
one that has attracted most attention, out of Spain, is 
“The Son honoring his Father” ; a play on the quar- 
rel of the Cid with Count Lozano, which, from a 
mistake of Voltaire, was long thought to have been 
the model of Corneille’s “ Cid,’ while in fact the re- 
verse is true, since Diamante’s play was produced 
above twenty years after the great French tragedy, 
and is deeply indebted to it.” Like most of the dram- 
atists of his time, Diamante was a follower of Calde- 
ron, and inclined to the more romantic side of his 
character and school; and, like so many Spanish poets 
of all times, he finished his career in unnoticed obscu- 
rity. Of the precise period of his death no notice has 
been found, but it was probably near the end of the 
century. 
Passing over such writers of plays as Monteser, Ge- 


21 The ‘‘ Cid” of Corneille dates from 
1636, and Diamante’s ‘‘ Honrador de su 
Padre” is found earliest in the eleventh 
volume of the Comedias Escogidas, li- 
censed 1658. Indeed, it may well be 
doubted whether Diamante was a writer 
for the stage so early as 1636 ; for I find 
no play of his printed before 1657. An- 
other play on the subject of the Cid, 
partly imitated from this one of Dia- 


mante, and with a similartitle, — ‘‘ Hon- 
rador de sus Hijas,” — is found in the 
Comedias Escogidas, Tom. XXIIL., 
1662. Its author is Francisco Polo, 
of whom I know only that he wrote 
this drama, whose merit is very small, 
and whose subject is the marriage of 
the daughters of the Cid with the 
Counts of Carrion, and their subsequent 
ill-treatment by their husbands, etc. 


Cuap. XXV.] HOZ. 501 


ronymo de Cuellar, and not a few others, who flourished 
in the latter half of the seventeenth century, we come 
to a pleasant comedy entitled “The Punishment of 
Avarice,” written by Juan de la Hoz, a native of Ma- 
drid, who was made a knight of Santiago in 1653, and 
Regidor of Burgos in 1657, after which he rose to good 
offices about the court, and was living there as late as 
1709. How many plays he wrote, we are not told; 
but the only one now remembered is “The Punish- 
ment of Avarice.” It is founded on the third tale of 
Maria de Zayas, which bears the same name, and from 
which its general outline and all the principal inci- 
dents are taken.” But the misevr’s character is 
*much more fully and poetically drawn in the * 426 
drama than it is in the story. Indeed, the play 

is one of the best specimens of character-drawing on 
the Spanish stage, and may, in many respects, bear a 
comparison with the “ Aulularia” of Plautus, and the 
“ Avare” of Moliére. 

The sketch of the miser by one of his acquaintance 
in the first act, ending with “ He it was who first weak- 
ened water,” is excellent; and, even to the last scene, 
-where he goes to a conjurer to recover his lost money, 
the character is consistently maintained and well de- 
veloped.” He isa miser throughout, and, what is more, 


22 Huerta, who reprints the ‘‘Casti- 
go de la Miseria” in the first volume 
of his ‘* Teatro Hespafiol,” expresses a 
doubt as to who is the inventor of the 
story, Hoz or Maria de Zayas. But 
there is no question about the matter. 
The ‘‘ Novelas”’ were printed at Zara- 
goza, 1637, 4to, and their Aprobacion 
is dated in 1635. See, also, Baena’s 
‘**Hijos de Madrid,” Tom. III. p. 271. 
In the Prdélogo to Candamo’s plays, 
(Madrid, Tom. I., 1722,) Hoz is said 
to have written the third act of Canda- 
mo’s ‘‘San Bernardo,” left unfinished 
at its author’s death in 1704, and Schack 


found an autograph play by him dated 
in 1708. If this were the case, Hoz 
must have lived to a good old age. 

23 The first of these scenes is taken, 
in a good degree, from the ‘‘ Novelas,” 
ed. 1637, p. 86; but the scene with the 
astrologer is wholly the poet’s own, and 
parts of it are worthy of Ben Jonson. 
It should be added, however, that the 
third act of the play is technically su- 
perfluous, as the action really ends with 
the second. But we could not afford 
to part with it, so full is it of spirit and 
humor. The tale of Maria de Zayas is 
plundered after his fashion — that is, 


502 MATOS FRAGOSO. (Perrop II. 


he is a Spanish miser. The moral is better in the 


prose tale, as the ztrigante, who cheats him into a mar- 
riage with herself, is there made a victim of her crimes 
no less than he is; while in the drama she profits by 
them, and comes off with success at last,— a strange 
perversion of. the original story, for which it is not 
easy to give a good reason. But in poetical merit 
there is no comparison between the two. 

Juan de Matos Fragoso, a Portuguese, who lived in 
Madrid at the same time with Diamante and Hoz, and 
died in 1692, enjoyed quite as much reputation with 
the public as they did, though he often writes in the 
very bad taste of the age. But he never printed more 
than one volume of his dramas, so that they are now 
to be sought chiefly in separate pamphlets, and in col- 
lections made for other purposes than the claims of the 
individual authors found in them. Those which are 

most known are his “ Mistaken Experiment,” 
*427 founded on *the “Impertinent Curiosity” of 

the first part of Don Quixote; his “ Fortune 
through Contempt,” a better-managed dramatic fiction ; 
and. his “Wise Man in Retirement and Peasant by his 
own Fireside,” which is commonly accounted the best 
of his works.” 

“The Captive Redeemer,” however, in which he was 
assisted by another well-known author of his time, Se- 
bastian de Villaviciosa, is on many accounts more in- 
teresting and attractive. It is, he says, a true story. 


Comedias, Caragoca, 1647, is published 


mutilated and abridged — by Scarron, 
in Vol. XXXIX. of the Comedias Esco- 


in his ‘‘Chatiment de ]’Avarice” ; — 


Nouvelles Tragicomiques, Paris, 1752, 
12mo, Tom. I. pp. 165-205. 

74 This play, it should be noted, is 
much indebted to Lope’s ‘‘ Villano en 
su Rincon” ; and it may be well also to 
add, that the ‘‘ Desprecio Agradecido,” 
the second play in Parte XXY. of Lope’s 


gidas as the work of Matos, and from 
that copied first into Garcia Suelto’s 
collection, and then into Ochoa’s. Ma- 
tos Fragoso must have been a writer for 
the stage fifty-nine years at least, for 
Schack found a MS. of one of his plays 
dated 1634 (Nachtrage, p. 92). 


Cnar. XXV.] MATOS FRAGOSO. 503 


It is certainly a heart-rending one, founded on an inci- 
dent not uncommon during the barbarous wars carried 
on between the Christians in Spain and the Moors in 
Africa, — relics of the fierce hatreds of a thousand 
years.” A Spanish lady is carried into captivity by a 
marauding party, who land on the coast for plunder, 
and instantly escape with their prey. Her lover, in 
despair, follows her, and the drama consists of their 
adventures till both are found and released. Mingled 
with this sad story, there is a sort of underplot, which 
gives its name to the piece, and is very characteristic 
of the state of the theatre and the demands of the 
public, or at least of the Church. A large bronze 
statue of the Saviour is discovered to be in the hands 
of the infidels. The captive Christians immediately 
offer the money, sent as the price of their own free- 
dom, to rescue it from such sacrilege ; and, at last, the 
Moors agree to give it up for its weight in gold; but 
when the value of the thirty pieces of silver, originally 
paid for the person of the Saviour himself, has 
been counted into one scale, it *is found to 
outweigh the massive statue in the other, and 
enough is still left to purchase the freedom of the cap- 
tives, who, in offering their ransoms, had in fact, as 
they supposed, offered their own lives. With this tri- 
umphant miracle the piece ends. Like the other 
dramas of Fragoso, it is written in a great variety of 





* 428 


25 [ have already noticed plays of 
Lope and Cervantes that set forth the 
eruel condition of Christian Spaniards 
in Algiers, and must hereafter notice 
the great influence this state of things 
had on Spanish romantic fiction. But 
it should be remembered here, that 
many dramas were founded on it, be- 
sides those I have had occasion to men- 
tion. One of the most striking is by 
Moreto, which has some points of re- 


semblance to the one spoken of in the 
text. It is called ‘‘El Azote de su 
Patria,” (Comedias Escogidas, Tom. 
XXXIYV., 1670,) and is filled with the 
cruelties of a Valencian renegade, who 
seems to have been an historical per- 
sonage. The popular ballads bear tes- 
timony to the same state of things. 
Duran, Romancero General, Tom. I. 
pp. xiv and 136-150, 


504 SOLIS. [Perrop II. 
measures, which are managed with skill, and are full 
of sweetness.” | 
The last of the good writers for the Spanish stage 
with its old attributes is Antonio de Solis, the historian 
of Mexico. He was born on the 18th of July, 1610, in 
Alcala de Henares, and completed his studies at the 
University of Salamanca, where, when only seventeen 
years old, he wrote a drama. Five years later he had 
given to the theatre his “ Gitanilla,” or “The Little 
Gypsy Girl,” founded on the story of Cervantes, or 
rather on a play of Montalvan borrowed from that 
story ;— a graceful fiction, which has been constantly 
reproduced, in one shape or another, ever since it first 
appeared from the hand of the great master. “ One 
Fool makes a Hundred” —a pleasant jiguron play of 
Solis, which was soon afterwards acted before the court 
—has less merit, and is somewhat indebted to the 
“Don Diego” of Moreto. But, on the other hand, his 
“Love ala Mode,’ which is all his own, is among the 
good plays of the Spanish stage, and furnished materials 
for one of the best of Thomas Corneille’s. 
In 1642, Solis prepared, for a festival at Pamplona, — 
on occasion of the birth of a son to the Viceroy of Na- 
varre, whom Solis was then serving as secre- 
*429 tary, —a dramatic * entertainment on the story 


26 In the Comedias Escogidas, there the best of them.  Villaviciosa wrote 


are at least twenty-five plays written 
wholly or in part by Matos, the earliest 
of which is in Tom. V., 1653. From 
the conclusion of his ‘‘ Pocos bastan si 
son Buenos,” (Tom. XXXIV., 1670,) 
and, indeed, from the local descriptions 
in other parts of it, there can be no 
doubt that Matos Fragoso was at one 
time in Italy, and very little that this 
drama was written at Naples, and acted 
before the Spanish Viceroy there. One 
volume of the plays of Matos Fragoso, 
called the first, was printed at Madrid, 
1658, 4to. Other separate plays are in 
Suelto’s collection, but not, I think, 


a part of ‘Solo el Piadoso es mi Hijo,” 
of ‘*EKl Letrado del Cielo,” of ‘* El 
Redentor Cautivo,” etc. The apologue 
of the barber, in the second act of the 
last, is, I think, taken from one of 
Leyba’s plays; but I have it not now 
by me to refer to, and such things were 
too common at the time on a much 
larger scale to deserve notice, except as 
incidental illustrations of a well-known 
state of literary morals in Spain.  Fra- 
goso’s life is in Barbosa, Tom. II. pp. 
695-697. I have eighteen of his plays 
in separate pamphlets, besides those in 
the Comedias Escogidas. 


Cuar. XXV.] SOLIS. 506 


of Orpheus and Eurydice, in which the tone of the 
Spanish national theatre is fantastically confounded 
with the genius of the old Grecian mythology, even 
more than was common in similar cases ; but the whole 
ends, quite contrary to all poetical tradition, by the 
rescue of Eurydice from the infernal regions, and an 
intimation that a second part would follow, whose con- 
clusion would be tragical ;— a promise which, like so 
many others of the same sort in Spanish literature, was 
never fulfilled. | 

As his reputation increased, Solis was made one of 
the royal secretaries, and, while acting in this capacity, 
wrote an allegorical drama, partly resembling a moral- 
ity of the elder period, and partly a modern masque, 
in honor of the birth of one of the princes, which was 
acted in the palace of the Buen Retiro. The title of 
this wild, but not unpoetical opera is “ Triumphs of 
Love and Fortune”; and Diana and Endymion, Psyche 
and Venus, Happiness and Adversity, are among its 
dramatic personages; though a tone of honor and gal- 
lantry is as consistently maintained in it, as if its scene 
were laid at Madrid, and its characters taken from the 
audience that witnessed the performance. It is the 
more curious, however, from the circumstance, that the 
loa, the entremeses, and the saynete, with which it was 
originally accompanied, are still attached to it, all 
written by Solis himself.”’ 

In this way he continued, during the greater part of 
his life, one of the favored writers for the private the- 
atre of the king and the public theatres of the capital ; 
the dramas he produced being almost uniformly marked 

277 The ‘‘Triunfos de Amor y For- ‘‘Three Spanish Plays” whose transla- 
tuna” appeared as early as 1660, in tion is attributed to Lord Holland. 


Tom. XIII. of the Comedias Escogidas. Ante, p. 393, note 5. 
‘*Un Bobo hace ciento” is one of the 


506 CANDAMO. [Perron IL. 


by a skilful complication of their plots, which were not 
always original; by a somewhat broad humor; and by 
a purity of style and harmony of versification very 
rare in his time. But at last, like many other Spanish 
poets, he began to think such occupations sinful; and, 
after much deliberation, he resolved on a life of re- 

ligious retirement, and submitted to the tonsure. 
*450 From this time he * renounced the theatre. He 

even refused to write autos sacramentales, when 
he was applied to,in the hope that he might be willing 
to become a successor to the fame and fortunes of his 
great master; and, giving up his mind to devout medi- 
tation and historical studies, seems to have lived con- 
tentedly, though in seclusion and poverty, till his 
death, which happened in 1686. <A volume of his 
minor poems, published afterwards, which are in all 
the forms then fashionable, has little value, except in 
a few short dramatic entertainments, several of which 
are characteristic and amusing.” 

Later than Solis, but still partly his contemporary, 
was Francisco Banzes Candamo. He was a gentleman 
of ancient family, and was born in 1662, in Asturias, — 
that true soil of the old Spanish cavaliers. His educa- 
tion was careful, if not wise ; and he was early sent to 
court, where he received, first a pension, and afterwards 
several important offices in the financial administra- 


23 The ‘‘Varias Poestas” of Solis and in Victor Hugo’s ‘‘ Notre Dame de 


were edited by Juan de Goyeneche, who 
prefixed to them an ill-written life of 
their author, and published them at 
Madrid, 1692 (4to); but there are also 
editions of 1716 and 1732. His Come- 
dias were first printed in Madrid, 1681, 
as Tom. XLVII. of the Comedias Es- 
cogidas. The ‘‘ Gitanilla,” of which I 
have said that it has been occasionally 
reproduced from Cervantes, is to be 
found in the ‘‘ Spanish Gypsy” of Row- 
ley and Middleton ; in the ‘‘ Preciosa,” 
a pleasant German play by P. A. Wolff; 


Paris”; besides which certain resem- 
blances to it in the ‘‘ Spanish Student ” 
of Professor Longfellow are noticed by 
the author. Tobin, the author of the 
‘Honey Moon,” who was a lover of 
Spanish literature, made an analysis of 
this play of Solis, intending to adapt it 
to the English stage. But he died 
young in 1804, and left this, like other 
literary projects, only in outline. See 
his Memoirs by Miss Benger, 8vo, Lon- 
don, 1820, pp. 107, 171, —a graceful 
tribute of woman’s love. 


Cuar. XXV.] CANDAMO. 507 


tion, whose duties, it is said, he fulfilled with good 
faith and efficiency. But at last the favor of the court 
deserted him; and he died in 1704, under circum- 
stances of so much wretchedness, that he was buried at 
the charge of a religious society in the place to which 
he had been sent in disgrace. 

His plays, or rather two volumes of them, were 
printed in 1722; but in relation to his other poems, a 
large mass of which he left to the Duke of Alva, we 
only know, that, long after their author’s death, a 
bundle of them was sold for a few pence, and that 
an inconsiderable collection of such of them as 
could be picked up from different sources * was . * 431 
printed in a small volume in 1729.” Of his 
plays, those which he most valued are on historical 
subjects,” such as“ The Recovery of Breda” and “ For 
his King and his Lady’’; but the most successful was, 
no doubt, his “ Esclavo en Grillos de Oro.” He wrote 
for the theatre, however, in other forms, and several of 
his dramas are curious, from the circumstance that they 
are tricked out with the doas and entremeses which served 
originally to render them more attractive to the mul- 
titude. Nearly all his plots are ingenious, and, though 
involved, are more regular in their structure than was 


29 Candamo’s plays, entitled ‘‘ Poe- 
sias Comicas, Obras Péstumas,” were 
printed at Madrid, in 1722, in 2 vols., 
4to. His miscellaneous poems, ‘‘ Poe- 
sias Lyricas,” were published in Madrid, 
in 18mo, but without a date on the 
title-page, while the Dedication is of 
1729, the Licencias of 1720, and the 
Fe de Erratas, which ought to be the 
latest of all, isof 1710. This, however, 
is a specimen of the confusion of such 
matters in Spanish books ; a confusion 
which, in the present instance, is carried 
into the contents of the volume itself, 
the whole of which is entitled ‘‘ Poesias 
Lyricas,” though it contains idyls, epis- 
tles, ballads, and part of three cantos of 


an epic on the expedition of Charles V. 
against Tunis; nee cantos having been 
among the papers left by its author to 
the Duke of Alva. The life of Canda- 
mo, prefixed to the whole, is very poor- 
ly written. Huerta (Teatro, Parte III. 
Tom. I. p. 196) says he himself bought 
a large mass of Candamo’s poetry, in- 
cluding siz cantos of this epic, for two 
rials; no doubt, a part of the manu- 
scripts left tothe Duke. He puts Can- 
damo’s death, 8th of September, 1709. 
The date in the text is from the poor 
Life prefixed to his Obras Liricas, and 
is, I think, right. 

39 He boasts of them in the opening 
of his ‘‘Cesar Africano.” 


508 [Periop II. 


ZARZUELAS. 
common at the time. But his style is swollen and pre- 
sumptuous, and there is, notwithstanding their inge- 
nuity, a want of life and movement in most of his 
plays that prevented them from being effective on 
the stage. 

Candamo, however, should be noted as having given 
a decisive impulse to a form of the drama which was 
known before his time, and which served at last to 
introduce the genuine opera; I mean the zarzuela, 
which took its name from that of one of the royal 
residences near Madrid, where they were first repre- 
sented with great splendor for the amusement of 
Philp the Fourth, by command of his brother 
Ferdinand.” They are, in fact, plays * of va- 
rious kinds, —shorter or longer; entremeses or 
full-length comedies ; — often in the nature of vaude- 
villes, but all in the national tone, and yet all accom- 
panied with music. 

The first attempt to Introduce dramatic performances 
with music was made, as we have seen, about 1630, by 
Lope de Vega, whose eclogue “Selva sin Amor,” wholly 
sung, was played before the court, with a showy appa- 
ratus of scenery prepared by Cosmo Lotti, an Italian 
architect, and “was a thing,” says the poet, “new in 


* 432 


81 Ferdinand was the gay and gallant 
Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo who 
commanded the armies of Spain in 
Flanders and presided in her councils 
there. He died in 1641. (Stirling’s 
Artists of Spain, Vol. II. p. 529.) He 
loved the theatre as his brother did, 
and in these lenten entertainments 
sought to please him. At first, only 
airs were introduced into the play, but 
gradually the whole was sung. (Ponz, 
Viage de Espatia, Madrid, 12mo, Tom. 
VI., 1782, p. 152. Signorelli, Storia 
dei Teatri, Napoli, 1813, 8vo, Tom. IX. 
p- 194.) One of these zarzuelas, in 
which the portions that were sung are 
distinguished from the rest, is to be 


found in the ‘‘ Ocios de Ignacio Alvarez 
Pellicer de Toledo,” s. 1. 1685, 4to, p. 
26. Its tendency to approach the 
Italian opera is apparent in its subject, 
which is ‘‘The Vengeance of Diana,” 
as well as in the treatment of the story, 
in the theatrical machinery, etc. ; but 
it has no poetical merit. A small vol- 
ume, by Andreas Davila y Heredia, 
(Valencia, 1676, 12mo,) called ‘‘Co- 
media sin Musica,” is intended to ridi- 
cule the beginnings of the opera in 
Spain ; but it is a prose satire, of little 
consequenceinanyrespect. (SeeChaps. 
XXIII. note 1, XXIV. note 38.) Nor 
are two or three other of his trifles any 
better. 


Cuap. XXV.] ZARZUELAS. 509 


Spain.” Short pieces followed soon afterward, entre- 
meses, that were sung in place of the ballads between 
the acts of the plays, and of which Benavente was the 
most successful composer before 1645, when his works 
were first published. But the earliest of the full-length 
plays that was ever sung was Calderon’s “ Purpura de 
la Rosa,” which was produced before the court in 1660, 
on occasion of the marriage of Louis the Fourteenth 
with the Infanta Maria Theresa, —a compliment to 
the distinguished personages of France who had come 
to Spain in honor of that great solemnity, and whom 
it was thought no more than gallant to amuse with 
something like the operas of Quinault and Lulli, which 
were then the most admired entertainments at the 
court of France. 

From this time, as was natural, there was a tendency 
to introduce singing on the Spanish stage, both in full- 
length comedies and in farces of all kinds; as may 
easily be observed in Matos Fragoso, in Solis, and in 
most of the other writers contemporary with the latter 
part of Calderon’s career. At last, under the manage- 
ment of Diamante and Candamo, a separate modifica- 
tion of the drama grew up, the subjects for which were 
generally taken from ancient mythology, like those of 
the “Circe” and “Arethusa”; and when they 
were not so taken, as in Diamante’s *“Birth * 433 
of Christ,” they were still treated in a manner 
much like that observed in the treatment of their fabu- 
lous predecessors. 

From this form of the drama to hatiad of the proper 
Italian opera was but a step, and one the more easily 
taken, as, from the period when the Bourbon family 
succeeded the Austrian on the throne, the national 
characteristics heretofore demanded in whatever ap- 





510 


ZAMORA. [Perron II. 
peared on the Spanish stage had ceased to enjoy the 
favor of the court and the higher classes. As early as 
1705, therefore, something like an Italian opera was 
established at Madrid, where, with occasional intervals 
of suspension and neglect, it has ever since maintained 
a doubtful existence, and where, of course, the old zar- 
zuelas and their kindred musical farces have been more 
and more discountenanced, until, in their original forms 
at least, they have ceased to be heard.” 

Another of the poets who lived at this time and 
wrote dramas that mark the decline of the Spanish 
theatre is Antonio de Zamora, who has sometimes been 
said to have been originally an actor; who was after- 
wards in the office of the Indies and in the royal house- 
hold ; and whose dramatic career begins before the year 
1700, though he did not die till after 1722, and prob- 
ably had his principal success in the reign of Philip the 
Fifth, before whom his plays were occasionally per- 
formed in the Buen Retiro, as late as 1744. 

Two volumes of his dramas were collected and pub- 
lished, with a solemn dedication and consecration of 
them to their author’s memory, on the ground of ren- 
dering unto Cesar the things which are Cesar’s. They 

are only seventeen in number, each longer than 
*434 had been common on ™* the Spanish stage in its 
best days, and, in general, very heavy. Those 
that are on religious subjects sink into farce, with the 


82 See ‘Selva sin Amor,” with its 
Preface, printed by Lope de Vega at 
the end of his ‘‘ Laurel de Apolo,” Ma- 
drid, 1630, 4to ;— Benavente, Joco- 
Seria, 1645, and Valladolid, 1653, 12mo, 
where such pieces are called entremeses 
cantados ; —Calderon’s Purpura de la 
Rosa ;— Luzan Poética, Lib. III. ce. 
1;— Diamante’s Labyrinto de Creta, 
printed as early as 1667, in the Come- 
dias Escogidas, Tom. XX VII. ; — Parra, 


El Teatro Espafiol, Poema Lirico, s. 1. 
1802, 8vo, notas, p. 295 ;—C. Pellicer, 
Origen del Teatro, Tom. I. p. 268 ;— 
and Stefano Arteaga, Teatro Musicale 
Italiano, Bologna, 8vo, Tom. I., 1785, 
p. 241. The last is an excellent book, 
written by one of the Jesuits driven 
from Spain by Charles III., and who 
died at Paris in 1799. The second 
edition (Venezia) is the amplest and 
best. 


jr 


Car, XXV.] ZAMORA. — CANIZARES. ~—~Oll 


exception of “ Judas Iscariot,” which is too full of wild 
horrors to permit it to be amusing. The best of the 
whole number is, probably, the one entitled “ All Debts 
must be paid at Last,” which is an alteration of Tirso 
de Molina’s “ Don Juan,” skilfully made ; —a remark- 
able drama, in which the tread of the marble statue is 
heard with more solemn effect than it is in any other 
of the many plays on the same subject. 

But notwithstanding the merit of this and two or 
three others, especially the “Hechizado por Fuerza,” 
it must be admitted that Zamora’s plays— of which 
above forty are extant, and of which many were acted 
at the court with applause — are very wearisome. 
They are crowded with long directions to the actors, 
and imply the use of much imperfect machinery ; both 
of them unwelcome symptoms of a declining dramatic 
literature. Still, Zamora writes with facility, and shows 
that, under favorable circumstances, he might have 
trodden with more success in the footsteps of Calderon, 
whom he plainly took for his model. But he came too 
late, and, while striving to imitate the old masters, 
fell into their faults and extravagances, without giving 
token of the fresh spirit and marvellous invention in 
which their peculiar power resides.” 

Others followed the same direction with even less 
success, like Pedro Francisco Lanini, Antonio Mar- 
tinez, Pedro de Rosete, and Francisco de Villegas; ™ 
but the person who continued longest in the paths 
opened by Lope and Calderon was Joseph de Caiii- 


83 Comedias de Antonio de Zamora, 
Madrid, 1744, 2 tom., 4to. The royal 
authority to print the plays gives also 


a right to print the lyrical works, but ° 


I think they never appeared. His life 
is in Baena, Tom. I. p. 177, and notices 
of him in L. F. Moratin, Obras, ed. 
Acad., Tom. II., Prélogo, pp. v—viii. 
84 These and many others, now en- 


tirely forgotten, are found in the old 
collection of Comedias Escogidas, pub- 
lished between 1652 and 1704; e. g. 
of Lanini, nine plays; of Martinez, 
eighteen ; and of Rosete and Villegas, 
eleven each. I am not aware that any 
one of them deserves to be rescued 
from the oblivion in which they are all 
sunk, 


[Periop II. 


Dilz CANIZARES. 


zares, a poet of Madrid, born in 1676, who began to 
write for the stage when he was only fourteen years 

old, — who was known as one of its most 
* 435 *favored authors for above forty years, pushing 

his success far into the eighteenth century, — 
and who died in 1750. His plays are nearly all in the 
old forms.” A few of those on historical subjects are 
not without interest, such as “The Tales of the Great 
Captain,” “Charles the Fifth at Tunis,” and “ The Suit 
of Fernando Cortés.” The best of his efforts in this 
class is, however, “El Picarillo en Espafia,’ on the 
adventures of a sort of Faulconbridge, Frederic de 
Bracamonte, who claimed that his father had been un- 
justly deprived of the Canaries, which he had held 
for John IL., as if he were himself their king. But 
Cafiizares, on the whole, had most success in plays 
founded on character-drawing, introduced a little be- 


85 Two volumes of the plays of Cafii- 
zares were collected, but more can still 
be found separate, and many are lost. 
In Moratin’s list, the titles of above 
seventy are brought together. Notices 
of his life are in Baena, Tom. III. p. 
69, and in Huerta, Teatro, Parte I. 
Tom. II. p. 347. 

Caftizares was, at one time, a soldier, 
like so many others of his cultivated and 
accomplished countrymen ; for Span- 
iards, from the time of Alfonso el Sabio 
to that of Charles IV., have, it should 
always be remembered, united, to a de- 
gree elsewhere unknown, the practical 
earnestness that belongs to the lives of 
statesmen and soldiers with the grace 
and glory of letters. Garcilasso de la 
Vega, sacrificed in the south of France, 
Lope de Vega, fighting in the Armada, 
Cervantes at Lepanto, Ercilla in the 
Andes, Calderon in Catalonia, Men- 
doza at the Council of Trent, Quevedo 
at Naples, and a hundred others, vouch 
for this singular union in a way not to 
be mistaken or overlooked. They ac- 
count, too, I think, for many of the 
imperfections of Spanish literature, and 
for the frequent failure of its authors to 


finish what they had begun ; for even 
many of those who had not grave duties 
to interrupt or break off their literary 
aspirations had their thoughts occu- 
pied and distracted with other purposes 
in life, to which they had been trained 
as to their main duties, rather than to 
anything letters could offer. The re- 
ligious element, too, with its severe 
demands and cruel intolerance, should 
come into any fair estimate of the diffi- 
culties encountered by men of elegant 
culture and tastes in Spain, with the 
diversion it necessarily pressed upon 
their inclinations and lives. Luis de 
Leon, Virues, Juan de Avila, Zurita, 
Morales, and numberless more, are cases 
in point, if the whole national charac- 
ter were not in fact a consistent exhi- 
bition of it. So that it seems to me 
much more remarkable that Spanish 
literature became what we now find it 
to have been, than that some of its 
departments had so little success, and 
that so many individuals failed to ac- 
complish what they had begun. It 
shows a great force of genius in the 
Spanish people, I think, that they got 
on at all and made a literature. 


Cuar. XXV.] CANIZARES. 513 
fore his time by Moreto and Roxas, and commonly 
called, as we have noticed, “Comedias de Figuron.” 
His happiest specimens in this class are “ The Famous 
Kitchen-Wench,” taken from the story of Cervantes, 
“The Mountaineer at Court,” and “Démine Lucas,” 
where he drew from the life about him, and selected 
his subjects from the poor, presumptuous, decayed 
nobility, with which the court of Madrid was then 
infested.”® 

Still, with this partial success as a poet, and with a 
popularity that made him of consequence to the actors, 
Cafizares shows more distinctly than any of his prede- 
cessors or contemporaries the marks of a declining 
drama. As we turn over the seventy or eighty plays 
he has left us, we are constantly reminded of the 
towers and temples of the South of Europe, 
which, during the Middle Ages, * were built * 436 
from fragments of the nobler edifices that had 
preceded them, proving at once the magnificence of 
the age in which the original structures were reared, 
and the decay of that of which such relics and frag- 
ments were the chief glory. The plots, intrigues, and 
situations in the dramas of Cafiizares are generally 
taken from Lope, Calderon, Moreto, Matos Fragoso, 
and his other distinguished predecessors, to whom, not 


86 The ‘‘Démine Lucas” of Cafiizares 
has no resemblance to the lively play 
with the same title by Lope de Vega, 
in the seventeenth volume of his Come- 
dias, 1621, which, he says in the Dedi- 
cation, is founded on fact, and which 
was reprinted in Madrid, 1841, 8vo, 
with a Preface, attacking, not only 
Cafizares, but several of the author’s 
contemporaries, in a most truculent 
manner. The ‘‘Ddmine Lucas” of 
Cafizares, however, is worth reading, 
particularly in an edition where it is 
accompanied by its two entremeses, im- 
properly called swynetes; — the whole 
newly arranged for representation in 


VOL. II. 33 


the Buen Retiro, on occasion of the 
marriage of the Infanta Maria Luisa 
with the Archduke Peter Leopold, in 
1765. 

The ‘‘ Démine Lucas,” which attacks 
awkward slovenly men of letters making 
high pretensions, has given a nickname 
to the whole class it ridicules. ‘‘ Asi 
se vid en Roma llamar 7’rasones a todos 
los valadrones ; — Tartufos en Francia 
& todos los hipdécritas ;—y aca en Es- 
pafia en viendo algun estudianton estra- 
falario le apellidamos, Domine Lucas.” 
Reflexiones sobre la Leccion critica, 
ec., por J. P. Forner, Madrid, 1786, 

3. 


p. 4 


[Periop II. 


514 VARIOUS DRAMATISTS. 


without the warrant of many examples on the Spanish 
stage, he resorted as to rich and ancient monuments, 
which could still yield to the demands of his age 
materials such as the age itself could no longer fur- 
nish from its own resources.” 

It would be easy to add the names of not a few 
other writers for the Spanish stage who were contem- 
porary with Cajiizares, and, like him, shared in the 
common decline of the national drama, or contributed 
to it. Such were Juan de Vera y Villaroel, Inez de la 
Cruz, Antonio Tellez de Azevedo, and others yet less 
distinguished while they lived, and long ago forgotten. 
But writers like these had no real influence on the 
character of the theatre to which they attached them- 
selves. ‘ This, in its proper outlines, always remained 
as it was left by Lope de Vega and Calderon, who, by a 
remarkable concurrence of circumstances, maintained, 
as far as it was in secular hands, an almost unques- 
tioned control over it, while they lived, and, at their 
death, had impressed upon it a character which it nev- 
er lost, till it ceased to exist altogether.* 


87 The habit of using too freely the 
works of their predecessors was com- 
mon on the Spanish stage from an early 
period. Cervantes says, in 1617, (Per- 
siles, Lib. III. c. 2,) that some compa- 
nies kept poets expressly to new-vamp 
old plays; and so many had done it 
before him, that Caflizares seems to have 
escaped censure, though nobody, cer- 
tainly, had gone so far. 

Don Ramon Mesonero Romanos has 
continued the work he began on the 
school of Lope de Vega (see ante, Chap. 


XXI., note 25) by publishing in Riva- 
deneyra’s Biblioteca (Tom. XLVII. 
and XLIX., 1858, 1859) two more vol- 
umes of it, coming down to Caiiizares. 
The plays, amounting to above sixty, 
are, aS might be expected from the 
period, of very unequal merit. But we 
are glad to have them. ‘The literary 
notices and alphabetical lists that open 
each volume are, also, valuable for their 
facts, but ill-written and showing little 


judgment or taste. 


8 See Appendix (F). 


eCste aah a Rk XV A837 


CHARACTER OF THE SPANISH DRAMA.—THE AUTOR, OR MANAGER. — THE 
WRITERS FOR THE STAGE.——-THE ACTORS, THEIR NUMBER, SUCCESS, AND 
CONDITION. — PERFORMANCES BY DAYLIGHT.— THE STAGE.—THE COURT- 
YARD, MOSQUETEROS, GRADAS, CAZUELA, AND APOSENTOS.— THE AUDI- 
ENCES. — PLAY-BILLS, AND TITLES OF PLAYS. — REPRESENTATIONS, BALLADS, 
LOAS, JORNADAS, ENTREMESES, SAYNETES, AND DANCES. — BALLADS DANCED 
AND SUNG.—XACARAS, ZARABANDAS, AND ALEMANAS.— POPULAR CHARAC- 
TER OF THE WHOLE.—GREAT NUMBER OF WRITERS AND PLAYS. 


Tue most prominent, if not the most important, char- 
acteristic of the Spanish drama, at the period of its 
widest success, was its nationality. In all its various 
forms, including the religious plays, and in all its mani- 
fold subsidiary attractions, down to the recitation of old 
ballads and the exhibition of popular dances, it ad- 
dressed itself more to the whole people of the country 
which produced it than any other theatre of modern 
times. The Church, as we have seen, occasionally 
interfered, and endeavored to silence or to restrict it. 
But the drama was too deeply seated in the general 
favor to be much modified, even by a power that over- 
shadowed nearly everything else in the state; and 
during the whole of the seventeenth century, — the 
century which immediately followed the severe legis- 
lation of Philip the Second and his attempts to control 
the character of the stage,—the Spanish drama was 
really in the hands of the mass of the people, and its 
writers and actors were such as the popular will re- 
quired them to be.? 

1 Mariana, in his treatise ‘‘De Spec- _nestly insists that actors of the low and 


taculis,” Cap. VI1., (Tractatus Septem, gross character he gives to them should 
Colonie Agrippine, 1609, folio,) ear- not be permitted to perform in the 


516 THE AUTOR. [PEriop II. 


At the head of each company of actors was their 
Autor. The name descended from the time of 
*438 Lope de Rueda, * when the writer of the rude 
farces then in favor collected about him a body 
of players to perform what should rather be called his 
dramatic dialogues than his proper dramas, in the pub- 
lic squares ;— a practice soon imitated in France, 
where Hardy, the “ Author,’ as he styled himself, of 
his own company, produced, between 1600 and 1630, 
about five hundred rude plays and farces, often taken 
from Lope de Vega,and whatever was most popular at 
the same period in Spain But while Hardy was at 
the height of his success and preparing the way for 
Corneille, the canon in Don Quixote had already recog- 
nized in Spain the existence of two kinds of authors, 
— the authors who wrote and the authors who acted ;? 
—a distinction familiar from the time when Lope de 
Vega appeared, and one that was never afterwards 
overlooked. At any rate, from that time actors and 
managers were quite as rarely writers for the stage in 
Spain as in other countries.’ 
The relations between the dramatic poets and the 
managers and actors were not more agreeable in Spain 
than elsewhere. Figueroa, who was familiar with the 


churches, or to represent sacred plays 3 D. Quixote, Parte I. c. 48. The 


anywhere ; and that the theatres should 
be closed on Sundays. But he pro- 
duced no effect against the popular 
passion. 

2 For Hardy and his extraordinary 
career, which was almost entirely found- 
ed on the Spanish theatre, see the 
‘¢ Parfaits,” or any other history of the 
French stage. Corneille, in his ‘‘ Re- 
marks on Mélite,” says that, when he 
began, he had no guide but a little 
common sense and the example of 
Hardy, and a few others no more 
regular than he was. The example 
of Hardy led Corneille directly to Spain 
for materials, and there, as we know, 
he sought them freely. 


Primera dama, or the actress of first 
parts, was sometimes called the Autora. 
Diablo Cojuelo, Tranco V. 

* Villegas was one of the last of the 
authors who were managers. He wrote, 
we are told, fifty-four plays, and died 
about 1600. (Roxas, Viage, 1614, f. 
21.) After this, the next example of 
any prominence is Claramonte, who was 
an autor when he wrote for the stage, 
and died about 1622. The managing 
autor was sometimes the object of ridi- 
cule in the play his own company per- 
formed, as he is in the ‘‘ Tres Edades 
del Mundo” of Luis Velez de Guevara, 
where he is the gracioso. Comedias 
Escogidas, Tom. XXXVIII., 1672. 


Cuar. XXVIL.] THE ACTORS. 517 


subject, says that the writers for the theatre were 
obliged to flatter the heads of companies, in order to 
obtain a hearing from the public, and that they were 
often treated with coarseness and contempt, especially 
when their plays were read and adapted to the stage 
in presence of the actors who were to perform them. 
Solorzano — himself a dramatist — gives similar ac- 
counts, and adds the story of a poet, who was 

not only rudely, but cruelly, abused by *a com- * 439 
pany of players, to whose humors their autor or 

manager had abandoned him. And even Lope de 
Vega and Calderon, the master-spirits of the time, 
complain bitterly of the way in which they were 
trifled with and defrauded of their rights and repu- 
tation, both by the managers and by the booksellers.’ 
At the end of the drama, its author therefore some- 
times announced his name, and, with more or less of 
affected humility, claimed the work as his own.2 But 
this was not a custom. Almost uniformly, however, 
when the audience was addressed at all,— and that 
was seldom neglected at the conclusion of a drama, — 


5 Pasagero, 1617, ff. 112-116. 

6 «*Gardufia de Sevilla,” near the 
end, and the ‘‘ Bachiller Trapaza,”’ ¢. 
15. Cervantes, just as he is finishing his 
**Coloquio de los Perros,” tells a story 
somewhat similar; so that authors were 
early ill-treated by the actors. 

7 See the Preface and Dedication of 
the ‘‘ Arcadia,” by Lope, as well as 
other passages noted in his Life ;— the 
letter of Calderon to the Duke of Vera- 
guas ;—his Life by Vera Tassis, etc. 
It should be noted, however, that the 
price of a play was rising. In Lope’s 
time, as we have seen, (ante, p. 270, 
note 33,) it was five hundred rials ; but 
in Calderon’s time it was eight hundred, 
even for the first offered by an author 
and before its merits were known :— 


Sin saber si es buena 6 mala, 
Ocho cientos reales cuesta 
La primera vez. 
Nadie fie su Secreto, Jorn. II. 


8 Thus, Mira de Mescua, at the con- 
clusion of ‘‘ The Death of St. Lazarus,” 
(Comedias Escogidas, Tom. IX., 1657, 
p. 167,) says: — 

Here ends the play 


Whose wondrous tale Mira de Mescua wrote 
To warn the many. Pray forgive our faults. 


And Francisco de Leyba finishes his 
‘‘Amadis y Niquea” (Comedias Esco- 
gidas, Tom. XL., 1675, f. 118) with 
these words : — 

Don Francis Leyba humbly bows himself, 


And at your feet asks, — not a victor shout, — 
But rather pardon for his many faults. 


In general, however, as in the ‘‘ Mayor 
Venganza” of Alvaro Cubillo, and in 
the ‘‘Caer para levantarse” of Matos, 
Cancer, and Moreto, the annunciation 
is simple, and made, apparently, to 
protect the rights of the author, which, 
in the seventeenth century, were so 
little respected. 


018 THE ACTORS. [Prrrop II. 
it was saluted with the grave and flattering title of 
“Senate.” 

Nor does the condition of the actors seem to have 
been one which could be envied by the poets who 
wrote for them. Their numbers and influence, indeed, 
soon became imposing, under the great impulse given 
to the drama in the beginning of the seventeenth cen- 
tury. When Lope de Vega first appeared asa dra- 
matic writer at Madrid, the only theatres he found were 
two unsheltered court-yards, which depended on such 
strolling companies of players as occasionally deemed 
it for their interest to visit the capital. Before he 
died, there were, besides the court-yards in Madrid, 

several theatres of great magnificence in the 
*440 royal palaces, and multitudinous * bodies of 

actors, comprehending in all above a thousand 
persons.” And half a century later, at the time of Cal- 
deron’s death, when the Spanish drama had taken all 
its attributes, the passion for its representations had 
spread into every part of the kingdom, until there was 
hardly a village, we are told, that did not possess some 
kind of a theatre.” Nay,so pervading and uncontrolled 
was the eagerness for dramatic exhibitions, that, not- 
withstanding the scandal it excited, secular comedies 
of a very equivocal complexion were represented by 
performers from the public theatres in some of the 
principal monasteries of the kingdom.” 


9 Don Quixote, ed. Pellicer, 1797, 
Tom. IV. p. 110, note. One account 
says there were three hundred compa- 
nies of actors in Spain about 1636; but 
this seems incredible, if it means com- 
panies of persons who live by acting. 
Pantoja, Sobre Comedias, Murcia, 1814, 
4to, Tom. I. p. 28. 

10 Pellicer, Origen de las Comedias, 
1804, Tom. I. p. 185. 

0 Tbid., pp. 226-228. When Philip 
III. visited Lisbon in 1619, the Jesuits 


performed a play before him, partly in 
Latin and partly in Portuguese, at their 
College of San Antonio ;—an account 
of which is given in the ‘‘ Relacion de 
la Real Tragicomedia con que los Pa- 
dres de la Compafita de Jesus recibieron 
& la Magestad Catdlica,” etc., por Juan 
Sardina Mimoso, etc., Lisboa, 1620, 
4to, —its author being, I believe, An- 
tonio de Sousa. Add to this that Ma- 
riana (De Spectaculis, c. 7) says that 
the entremeses and other exhibitions 


Cuar. XXVI.] THE ACTORS. 519 


Of course, out of so large a body of actors, all strug- 
eling for public favor, some became famous. Among 
the more distinguished were Agustin de Roxas, who 
wrote the gay travels of a company of comedians ; 
Roque de Figueroa, Melchor de Villalba, and Rios, 
Lope’s favorites; Pinedo, much praised by Tirso -de 
Molina and Cascales; Alonso de Olmedo and Sebastian 
Prado, who were rivals for public applause in the time 
of Calderon; Juan Rana, who was the best comic actor 
during the reigns of Philip the Third and Philip the 
Fourth, and amused the audiences by his own extem- 
poraneous wit, delighting Lady Fanshawe, when he 
was nearly eighty years old; the two Morales and 
Josefa Vaca, wife of the elder of them; Barbara Coro- 
nel, the Amazon, who preferred to appear as a man; 
Maria de Cérdoba, praised by Quevedo and the Count 
Villamediana ; and Maria Calderon, who, as the 
mother of *the second Don John of Austria, * 441 
figured in affairs of state, as well as in those of 
the stage. These and some others enjoyed, no doubt. 
that ephemeral, but brilliant, reputation which is gen- 
erally the best reward of the best of their class; and 
enjoyed it to as high a degree, perhaps, as any per- 
sons that have appeared on the stage in more modern 
times.” 


between the acts of the plays, performed 
in the most holy religious houses, were 
often of a gross and shameless character, 
—a statement which occurs partly in 
the same words, in his treatise ‘* De 
Rege,” Lib. III. c.16. In his ‘‘ Juegos 
Publicos,” a translation made by him- 
self from his ‘‘De Spectaculis,” but 
differing from that work somewhat, he 
says (c. 12) that the grossly indecent 
Zarabandas were sometimes danced in 
nunneries during the Corpus Christi. 
In the great and rich convent of San 
Vicente in Plasencia, plays were annu- 
ally performed at the Festival of our 


Lady of the Rosary. Alonso Fernan- 
dez, Hist. de Plasencia, Madrid, fol., 
1629, p. 112, 

But perhaps the most bold and offen- 
sive instance of the misuse of a church 
for dramatic purposes was when the 
‘*Casa Confusa,” a very free play of 
the Count de Lemos, now lost, was 
acted in the church of San Blas at 
Lerma before Philip III. and his court 
in 1618, ending with the scandalous 
and voluptuous dance of the Zaraban- 
da. See Barrera ad verb. Lemos, and 
note 60 to this chapter. 

12 ©, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. II., pas- 


520 


THE ACTORS. [Perron II. 

But, regarded as a body, the Spanish actors seem to 
have been anything but respectable. In general, they 
were of a low and vulgar cast in society, — so low, that, 
for this reason, they were at one period forbidden to 
have women associated with them.8 The rabble, in- 
deed, sympathized with them, and sometimes, when 
their conduct called for punishment, protected them 
by force from the arm of the law; but between 1644 
and 1649, when their number in the metropolis had 
become very great, and they constituted no less than 
forty companies, full of disorderly persons and vaga- 
bonds, their character did more than anything else to 
endanger the privileges of the drama, which with diffi- 


culty evaded the restrictions their riotous lives 


*442 brought upon it.” 


sim, Figueroa, Placa Universal, 1615, 
f. 322, b, and Mad. d’Aulnoy, Voyage 
en Espagne, ed. 1693, Tom. I. p. 97. — 
Lope’s Dedication of Domine Lucas, in 
which Villalba acted, — Rios is reported 
by Roxas to have improved the costumes 
of the stage, — Pinedo is much praised 
by Lope as well as Tirso, ex. gr. in 
Lope’s Peregrino en su Patrida, Lib. 
IV., where he says : — 

Baltasar de Pinedo tendra fama 

Pues hace, siendo Principe en su Arte, 

Altos metamorfoseos de su rostro, . 


Color, ojos, sentidos, voz, y efectos [afectos ?], 
Trasformando la gente. 


Pinedo, too, is in Cascales, Tabla ITI., 
1616. One of the best actors of the best 
period was Sebastian Prado, mentioned 
above ; the same who, as head of a com- 
pany, went to Paris after the marriage 
of Louis XIV. with the Spanish In- 
fanta, in 1660, and played there twelve 
years (Chappuzeau, Théatre Francais, 
1674, 12mo, pp. 2138, 214) ;—one of 
the many proofs of the fashion and 
spread of Spanish Literature at that 
time. (C. Pellicer, Tom. I. p. 39.) 
For Juan Rana, or Arana, see Lady 
Fanshawe’s Memoirs, (London, 1829, 
8vo, p. 236,) and for Pedro Morales, 
see Navarrete, Vida de Cervantes (p. 
530). Maria de Cordova is often men- 
tioned with admiration, especially by 


One * proof of their gross 


Calderon in the opening of the ‘‘ Dama 
Duende,” under her known sobriquet of 
Amarilis. Other distinguished actors 
of the seventeenth century are to be 
found in a note of Clemencin to his 
edition of D. Quixote, Parte II. c. 11, 
and throughout the very imperfect work 
of C. Pellicer, Origen del Teatro, Ma- 
drid, 1804. 

13 Alonso, Mozo de Muchos Amos, 
Parte I., Barcelona, 1625, f. 141. A 
little earlier, viz. 1618, Bisbe y Vidal 
speaks of women on the stage frequent- 
ly taking the parts of men (Tratado de 
Comedias, f. 50) ; and from the direc- 
tions to the players in the ‘‘ Amadis y 
Niquea”’ of Leyba, (Comedias Escogidas, 
Tom. XL., 1675,) it appears that the 
part of Amadis was expected to be 
played always by a woman. 

14 C, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 
183, Tom. II. p. 29; and Navarro 
Castellanos, Cartas Apologéticas contra 
las Comedias, Madrid, 1684, 4to, pp. 
256-258. ‘*Take my advice,” says 
Sancho to his master, after their un- 
lucky encounter with the players of the 
Auto Sacramental, — ‘‘ take my advice, 
and never pick a quarrel with play- 
actors: they are privileged people. I 
have known one of them sent to prison 
for two murders, and get off scot-free. 
For mark, your worship, as they are 


Cuar. XXVI.] THE ACTORS. 521 


conduct is to be found in its results. Many of them, 
filled with compunction at their own shocking ex- 
cesses, took refuge at last in a religious life, like 
Prado, who became a devout priest, and Francisca Bal- 
tasara, who died a hermit, almost in the odor of sanc- 
tity, and was afterwards made the subject of a religious 
play.” 

They had, besides, many trials. They were obliged 
to learn a great number of pieces to satisfy the de- 
mands for novelty, which were more exacting on the 
Spanish stage than any other; their rehearsals were 
severe and their audiences rude. Cervantes says 
that their life was as hard as that of the Gypsies ; 
and Roxas, who knew all there was to be known on 
the subject, says that slaves in Algiers were better off 
than they were.” 

To all this we must add, that they were poorly paid, 
and that their managers were almost always in debt. 
But, like other forms of vagabond life, its freedom from 
restraints made it attractive to not a few loose persons, 
in a country like Spain, where it was difficult to find 
liberty of any sort. This attraction, however, did not 
last long. The drama fell in its consequence and pop- 
ularity as rapidly as it had risen. Long before the end 
of the century, it ceased to encourage or protect such 
numbers of idlers as were at one time needed to sus- 


gay fellows, full of fun, everybody fa- 


17 Roxas, Viage, 1614, f. 188. The 
vors them; everybody defends, helps, 


necessities of the actors were so press- 


and likes them ; especially if they be- 
long to the royal and authorized com- 
panies, where all or most of them dress 
as if they were real princes.” Don 
Quixote, Parte II. c. 11, with the note 
of Clemencin. 

16 ©. Pellicer, Origen, Tom. II. p. 
53, and elsewhere throughout the vol- 
ume, 

16 In the tale of the ‘‘ Licenciado Vi- 
driera.” 


ing, that: they were paid their wages 
every night, as soon as the acting was 


over, 
Un Representante cobra 
Cada noche lo que gana, 
¥ el Autor paga, aunque 
No hay dinero en la Caxa. 


El Mejor Representante, Comedias Escogidas, 
Tom. XXIX., 1668, p. 199. 


The Actor gets his wages every night ; 
For the poor Manager must pay him up, | 
Although his treasure-chest is clear of coin. 


O22 THE CORRALES, OR THEATRES. [Perron IL. 


tain its success ;"8 and in the reign of Charles the Sec- 
ond it was not easy to collect three companies for 
the festivities occasioned by his marriage.” Half a 
century earlier, twenty would have striven for the 
honor. 

* During the whole of the successful period 
of the drama in Spain, its exhibitions took place 
in the daytime. On the stages of the different palaces, 
where, when Howell was in Madrid, in 1623,” there 
were regular representations once a week or oftener, it 
was sometimes otherwise ; but the religious plays and 
autos, with all that were intended to be really popular, 
were represented in broad daylight, — in the winter at 
two, and in the summer at three, in the afternoon, 
every day in the week.” Till near the middle of the 
seventeenth century, the scenery and general arrange- 
ments of the theatre were probably as good as they 
were in France when Corneille appeared, or perhaps 
better; but in the latter part of it, the French stage 


* 443 


18 ‘*Pondus iners reipublice, atque 
inutile,” said Mariana, De Spectaculis, 
c. 9. But the attractions of this liber- 
tine and vagabond life — vida libertina 
y vagamunda — are characteristically 
and truly set forth in the spurious 
Second Part of Guzman de Alfarache, 
Lib. III. cap. 7. Mariana would have 
all connected with it driven out of the 
kingdom, —a totius patrie finibus ex- 
terminarentur quasi pestes certissime. 
De Rege, Lib. II. ¢. 6. 

19 Hugalde y Parra, Origen del Te- 
atro, p. 312. 

20 Familiar Letters, London, 1754, 
8vo, Book I. Sect. 3, Letter 18. When 
the Maréchal de Grammont went to 
Madrid, in 1659, about the Peace of 
the Pyrenees and the marriage of Louis 
XIV., he gave a similar account of the 
plays at the palace. The one he saw 
was acted by the light of six enormous 
wax flambeaux in silver chandeliers of 
prodigious size and magnificence. The 
audience, of course, was small and for- 
mal; grave and stiff as possible. See 


his letter, October 21, 1659, to his sis- 
ter, Mad. de Motteville, in her Mé- 
moires d’Anne d’Autriche, ed. 1750, 
Tom. V. pp. 360-362. From 1622 to 
1685, plays were constantly acted in 
some of the palaces before the court ; — 
oftener, I think, on Sundays and Thurs- 
days than on other days. The price 
paid the actors sounds rather mean for 
royalty ;— two and three hundred rials 
at first, or from ten to thirteen and a 
third dollars ;— later, more. When 
the Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles 
J., was there in 1623, on the madcap 
expedition with Buckingham, there was 
especial splendor in the representation 
of plays before him. Plays were also 
acted during the progresses or journeys 
of the King and the Infantes, — once 
in the Alhambra, and twice on board 
galleys in the bays of Villafranca and 
Tarragona, — so great was the passion 
for the stage in the seventeenth century. 
Schack, Nachtrage, 1854, pp. 66-76. 

21 ©. Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 220. 
Aarsens, Voyage, 1667, p. 29. 


Cuar. XXVI.] THE CORRALES, OR THEATRES. 523 


was undoubtedly in advance of that at Madrid, and 
Madame d’Aulnoy makes herself merry by telling her 
friends that the Spanish sun was made of oiled paper, 
and that in the play of “ Alcina” she saw the devils 
quietly climbing ladders out of the infernal regions, to 
reach their places on the stage.” Plays that required 
more elaborate arrangements and machinery were 
called comedias de rudo,— noisy or showy dramas, — 
and are treated with little respect by Figueroa and 
Luis Velez de Guevara, because it was thought un- 
worthy of a poetical spirit to depend for success on 
means so mechanical.” 

*The stage itself, in the two principal the- *444 
atres of Madrid, was raised only a little from 
the ground of the court-yard, where it was erected, 
and there was no attempt at a separate orchestra, — 
the musicians coming to the forepart of the scene 
whenever they were wanted. Immediately in front 
of the stage were a few benches, which afforded the 
best places for those who bought single tickets, and 
behind them was the unencumbered portion of the 
court-yard, where the common file were obliged to 
stand in the open air. The crowd there was generally 
great, and the persons composing it were called, from 
their standing posture and their rude bearing, mosque- 
teros, or infantry. They constituted the most formida- 
ble and disorderly part of the audience, and were the 
portion that generally determined the success of new 


22 Relation du Voyage d’Espagne, 
par Madame la Contesse d’Aulnoy, La 
Haye, 1693, 18mo, Tom. III]. p. 21, — 
the same who wrote beautiful fairy 
tales. She was there in 1679-80; 
but Aarsens gives a similar account of 
things twenty-five years earlier (Voy- 
age, 1667, p. 59). ‘ 

23 Figueroa, Pasagero, and Guevara, 
Diablo Cojuelo. Information of some 


value concerning the Spanish Theatre 
and its decorations may be found in 
Luis Lamarca, Teatro de Valencia, 1848, 
p. 24-29, with the notes at the end. 

ut it should be borne in mind while 
reading Lamarca, that the theatre at 
Valencia was probably always inferior 
in its appointments to either of those at 
Madrid. 


524 THE AUDIENCES. [Perron II. 


plays. One of their-body, a shoemaker, who in 1680 
reigned supreme in the court-yard over the opinions 
of those around him, reminds us at once of the critical 
trunk-maker in Addison” Another, who was offered 
a hundred rials to favor a play about to be acted, an- 
swered proudly, that he would first see whether it was 
good or not, and, after all, hissed it.* Sometimes the 
author himself addressed them at the end of his play, 
and stooped to ask the applause of this lowest portion 
of the audience. But this was rare.” 

* Behind the sturdy mosqueteros were the 
gradas, or rising seats, for the men, and the 
cazuela, or “stewpan,” where the women were strictly 
enclosed, and sat crowded together by themselves. 
Above all these different classes were the desvanes and 
aposentos, or balconies and rooms, whose open, shop-like 
windows extended round three sides of the court-yard 
in different stories, and were filled by those persons of 
both sexes who could afford such a luxury, and who 
not unfrequently thought it one of so much conse- 
quence, that they held it as an heirloom from genera- 
tion to generation.” The aposentos were, in fact, com- 


* 445 


Perhaps we should not have expected 


24 ©, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. pp. 
53, 55, 63, 68. 

25 Mad. d’Aulnoy, Voyage, Tom. III. 
p. 21. Spectator, No. 235. 

26 Aarsens, Relation, at the end of 
his Voyage, 1667, p. 60. 

27 Manuel Morchon, at the end of his 
‘¢ Vitoria del Amor,” (Comedias Escogi- 
das, Tom. IX., 1657, p. 242,) says: — 
Most honorable Mosqueteros, here 
Don Manuel Morchon, in gentlest form, 
Beseeches you to give him, as an alms, 


A victor shout ; —if not for this his play, 
At least for the good-will it shows to please you. 


In the same way, Antonio de Huerta, 
speaking of his ‘‘ Cinco Blancas de Juan 
Espera en Dios,” (Ibid., Tom. XXXII., 
1669, p. 179,) addresses them : — 

‘And should it now a victor cry deserve, 
Sefiores Mosqueteros, you will here, 


In charity, vouchsafe to give me one; — 
That is, in-case the play has pleased you well. 


such a condescension from Solis, but 
he stooped to it. At the conclusion of 
his well-known ‘‘ Doctor Carlino,” (Co- 
medias, 1716, p. 262,) he turns to them, 
saying : — 
And here expires my play If it has pleased, 
Let the Senores Mosqueteros cry a victor 
At its burial. 
Calderon did the same at the end of his 
*‘Galan Fantasma,” butinjest. Every- 
thing, indeed, that we know about the 
mosqueteros shows that their influence 
was great on the theatre in the theatre’s 
best days. In the eighteenth century 
we shall find it governing everything. 
2 Aarsens, Relation, p. 59. Zavaleta, 
Dia de Fiesta por la Tarde, Madrid, 
1660, 12mo, pp. 4, 8, 9. C. Pellicer, 
Tom. I. Mad. d’Aulnoy, Tom. III. p. 
22, says of the ‘‘Cazuela”: ‘‘ Toutes 


Cuap. XXVI.] THE AUDIENCES. 525 


modious rooms, and the ladies who resorted to them 
generally went masked, as neither the actors nor the 
audience were always so decent that the lady-like 
modesty of the more courtly portion of society might 
be willing to countenance them.” 

It was deemed a distinction to have free access to the 
theatre ; and persons who cared little about the price 
of a ticket struggled hard to obtain it.® Those who 
paid at all paid twice,—at the outer door, where the 
manager sometimes collected his claims in person, and 
at the inner one, where an ecclesiastic collected what 
belonged to the hospitals, under the gentler name of 
alms.** The audiences were often noisy and unjust. 
Cervantes intimates this, and Lope directly complains 
of it. Suarez de Figueroa says, that rattles, crackers, 
bells, whistles, and keys were all put in requisi- 
tion, * when it was desired to make an uproar; * 446 
and Benavente, in a doa spoken at the opening 
of a theatrical campaign at Madrid by Roque, the 
friend of Lope de Vega, deprecates the ill-humor of all 
the various classes of his audience, from the fashion- 
able world in the aposentos to the mosqueteros in the 
court-yard ; though he adds, with some mock dignity, 
that he little fears the hisses which he is aware must 


les dames d’une médiocre vertu s’y 
mettent et tous les grands Seigneurs y 
vont pour vauser avec elles.” 

29 Guillen de Castro, ‘‘ Mal Casados 
de Valencia,” Jorn. II. It may be 
worth notice, perhaps, that the tradi- 
tions of the Spanish theatre are still 
true to its origin ; — aposentos, or apart- 
ments, beingstill the name for the boxes; 
patio, or court-yard, that of the pit; and 
mosqueteros, or musketeers, that of the 
persons who fill the pit, and who still 
claim many privileges, as the successors 
of those who stood in the heat of the 
old court-yard. As to the cazuela, 
Breton de los Herreros, in his spirited 


‘*Satira contra los Abusos en el Arte 
de la Declamacion Teatral,” (Madrid, 
1834, 12mo,) says :— 

Tal vez alguna insipida mozuela 

De tise prende; mas si el Patio brama, 

Que te vale un rincon de la Cazuela? 
But this part of the theatre is more re- 
spectable than it was in the seventeenth 
century. 

89 Zabaleta, Dia de Fiesta por la 
Tarde, p. 2. 

81 Cervantes, Viage al Parnaso, 1784, 
p. 148. Other small sums were paid for 
access to other parts of the Patio. The 
aposentos were, apparently, a costly lux- 
ury. Pellicer, I. 98-100. 


526 


AUDIENCES. — PLAY-BILLS. [PERtop II. 


follow such a defiance.” When the audience meant 
to applaud, they cried “Victor!” and were no less 
tumultuous and unruly than when they hissed.” In 
Cervantes’s time, after the play was over, if it had 
been successful, the author stood at the door to receive 
the congratulations of the crowd as they came out; 
and, later, his name was placarded and paraded at the 
corners of the streets with an annunciation of his 
triumph." 

Cosme de Oviedo, a well-known manager at Granada, 
was the first who used advertisements for announcing 
the play that was to be acted. This was about the 
year 1600. Half a century afterwards, the condition 
of such persons was still so humble, that one of the 
best of them went round the city and posted his play- 
bills himself, which were, probably, written, and not 
printed.” From an early period they seem to have 

given to acted plays the title which full-length 
*447 Spanish dramas almost * uniformly bore during 


the seventeenth century and even afterwards, 


82 Cervantes, Prdélogo 4 las Comedias. 
Lope, Prefaces to several of his plays. 
Figueroa, Pasagero, 1617, p. 105. Bena- 
vente, Joco-Seria, Valladolid, 1653, 
12mo, f. 81. One of the ways in which 
the audiences expressed their disappro- 
bation was, as Cervantes intimates, by 
throwing cucumbers (pepinos) at the 
actors. 

33 Mad. d’Aulnoy, Voyage, Tom. I. p. 
55. Tirso de Molina, Deleytar, Madrid, 
1765, 4to, Tom. II. p. 333. At the end 
of a play the whole audience is not un- 
frequently appealed to for a ‘‘ Victor” 
by the second-rate authors, as we have 
seen the mosqueteros were sometimes, 
though rarely. Diego de Figueroa, at 
the conclusion of his ‘‘ Hija del Me- 
sonero,’”’ (Comedias Escogidas, Tom. 
XIV., 1662, p. 182,) asks for it as for 
an alms, ‘‘ Dadle un Vitor de limosna”’ ; 
and Rodrigo Enriquez, in his ‘‘Sufrir 
mas por querer menos,” (Tom. X., 1658, 
p. 222,) asks for it as for the veils given 
to servants in a gaming-house, ‘‘ Ven- 


ga un Vitor de barato.” Sometimes a 
good deal of ingenuity is used to bring 
in the word Vitor just at the end of the 
piece, so that it shall be echoed by the 
audience without an open demand for 
it, as it is by Calderon in his ‘‘ Amado 
y Aborrecido,” and in the ‘‘ Difunta 
Pleyteada” of Francisco de Roxas. But, 
in general, when it is asked for at all, 
it is rather claimed asa right. Once, 
in ‘‘Lealtad contra su Rey,” by Juan 
de Villegas, (Comedias Escogidas, Tom. 
X., 1658,) the two actors who end the 
piece impertinently ask the applause 
for themselves, and not for the author ; 
a jest which was, no doubt, well re- 
ceived. 

5 Cervantes, Viage, 1784, p. 138. 
Novelas, 1783, Tom. I. p. 40. 

85 Roxas, Viage, 1614, f. 51. Bena- 
vente, Joco-Seria, 1653, f. 78. Alonso, 
Mozo de Muchos Amos ;—by which 
(Tom. I. f. 137) it appears that the 
placards were written as late as 1624, 
in Seville. 


Cuar. XXVI.J REPRESENTATIONS. 027 
— that of comedia famosa; though we must except 
from this remark the case of Tirso de Molina, who 
amused himself with calling more than one of his suc- 
cessful performances “Comedia siz fama,” *°—a play 
without repute. But this was, in truth, a matter of 
mere form, soon understood by the public, who needed 
no especial excitement to bring them to theatrical 
entertainments, for which they were constitutionally 
eager. Some of the audience went early to secure 
good places, and amused themselves with the fruit and 
confectionery carried round the court-yard for sale, 
or with watching the movements of the laughing 
dames who were enclosed within the balustrade of the 
cazuela, and who were but too ready to flirt with all in 
their neighborhood. Others came late; and if they 
were persons of authority or consequence, the actors 
waited for their appearance till the disorderly murmurs 
of the groundlings compelled them to begin.” 

At last, though not always till the rabble had been 
composed by the recitation of a favorite ballad, or 
by some popular air on the guitars, one of the more 
respectable actors, and often the manager himself, 
appeared on the stage, and, in the technical phrase, 
“threw out the Joa,” or compliment,* — a peculiarly 


86 This title he gave to ‘‘Como han 
de ser los Amigos,” ‘‘ Amor por Razon 
de Estado,” and some others of his 
plays. It may be noted that a full- 
length play was sometimes called Gran 
Comedia, as twelve such are in Tom. 
XXXI. of ‘‘ Las Mejores Comedias que 
hasta oy han salido,” Barcelona, 1638. 
Calderon called his full-length plays 
gran comedia, perhaps because Lope’s 
had been called famosa. 

87 Mad. d’Aulnoy, Voyage, Tom. III. 
p. 22, and Zabaleta, Fiesta por la Tarde, 
1660, pp. 4, 9. 

8 Cigarrales de Toledo, Madrid, 1624, 
4to, p. 99. There is a good deal of learn- 
ing about Joas in Pinciano, ‘‘ Filosofia 


Antigua,” Madrid, 1596, 4to, p. 418, 
and Salas ‘‘ Tragedia Antigua,” Madrid, 
1633, 4to, p. 184. Luys Alfonso de 
Carvallo, in his Cisne de Apolo, 1602, 
f. 124, defines the Low thus: ‘‘ Aora le 
llaman doa por loar en el la comedia, el 
auditorio o festividad en que se hace, 
mas ya le podremos asi llamar, porque 
han dado los poetas en alabar alguna 
cosa como el silencio, un numero, lo 
negro, lo pequefio y otras cosas en que 
se quieren sehalar y mostrar sus ingenios, 
aunque todo deve ir ordenado al fin que 
yo dixe que es, captar la benevolencia y 
atencion del auditorio.” But after all, 
as a general idea of the loa, Sir Richard 
Fanshawe is right, when, in his trans- 


528 [Peron II. 


LOAS. 
Spanish form of the prologue, of which we have abun- 
dant specimens from the time of Naharro, who 
*448 calls them intrdytos, * or overtures, down to the 
final fall of the old drama. They are prefixed 
to all the autos of Lope and Calderon; and though, in 
the case of the multitudinous secular plays of the 
Spanish theatre, the appropriate doas are no longer 
found regularly attached to each, yet we have them 
occasionally with the dramas of Tirso de Molina, Cal- 
deron, Antonio de Mendoza, and not a few others. 

The best are those of Agustin de Roxas, whose 
“Amusing Travels” are full of them, and those of 
Quinones de Benavente, found among his “Jests in 
Earnest.” They were in different forms, dramatic, nar- 
rative, and lyrical, and on very various subjects and in 
very various measures. One of Tirso’s is in praise of — 
the beautiful ladies who were present at its represen- 
tation ;*— one of Mendoza’s is in honor of the cap- 
ture of Breda, and flatters the national vanity upon 
the recent successes of the Marquis of Spinola ; *” — 
one by Roxas is on the glories of Seville, where he 
made it serve as a conciliatory introduction for him- 
self and his company, when they were about to act 
there ; ** — one by Sanchez is a jesting account of the 
actors who were to perform in the play that was to 
follow it;**— and one by Benavente was spoken by 
Roque de Figueroa, when he began a series of repre- 


lation of Mendoza’s ‘‘Querer por solo 
querer,” he speaks of the prologue as 
called by the Spaniards Joa, i. e. the 
praise, because therein the spectators 
are commended to curry favor with them. 
1671. Music was freely introduced into 
the loas. Renjifo, ed. 1727, p. 166. 

89 The Joa to the ‘* Vergonzoso en 
Palacio” ; it is in décimas redondillas. 

49 It gives an account of the recep- 
tion of the news at the palace, (Obras 


de Mendoza, Lisboa, 1690, 4to, p. 78,) 
and may have been spoken before Cal- 
deron’s well-known play, ‘‘ El Sitio de 
Breda.” See ante, Chap. XXIV. 

41 Four persons appear in this Joa, — 
a part of which is sung, —and, at the 
end, Seville enters and grants them all 
ere to act in her city. Viage, 1614, 

. 4-8, 

42 Lyra Poética de Vicente Sanchez, 
Zaragoza, 1688, 4to, p. 47. 


Cuar. XXVI.] LOAS. 529 
’ 


sentations at court, and is devoted to a pleasant expo- 
sition of the strength of his company, and a boastful 
announcement of the new dramas they were able to 
produce.* 

“Gradually, however, the doas, whose grand * 449 
object was to conciliate the audience, took more 
and more the popular dramatic form ; and at last, like 
several by Roxas, Mira de Mescua, Moreto, and Lope 
de Vega,“ differed little from the farces that followed 
them.* Indeed, they were almost always fitted to the 
particular occasions that called them forth, or to the 
known demands of the audience; — some of them 
beimg accompanied with singing and dancing, and 
others ending with rude practical jests.° They are, 
therefore, as various in their tone as they are in their 
forms; and, from this circumstance, as well as from 
their easy national humor, they became at last an 
important part of all dramatic representations. 

The first jornada or act of the principal performance 
followed the doa, almost as a matter of course, though, 
in some instances, a dance was interposed; and in 


48 Joco-Seria, 1653, ff. 77, 82. In tales, con Quatro Comedias Nuevas y 


another he parodies some of the famil- 
iar old ballads (ff. 43, etc.) in a way 
that must have been very amusing to 
the mosqueteros ; a practice not uncom- 
mon in the lighter dramas of the Span- 
ish stage, most of which are lost. In- 
stances of it are found in the entremes 
of ‘* Melisendra,” by Lope (Comedias, 
Tom. I., Valladolid, 1609, p. 333) ; and 
two burlesque dramas in Comedias Es- 
cogidas, Tom. XLV., 1679, —the first 
entitled ‘‘ Traycion en Propria Sangre,” 
being a parody on the ballads of the 
*‘Infantes de Lara,” and the other en- 
titled ‘‘El Amor mas Verdadero,” a 
parody on the ballads of ‘‘ Durandarte” 
and ‘‘ Belerma” ;— both very extrava- 
gant and dull, but showing the tenden- 
“ of the popular taste not a whit the 
ess. 

44 These curious Joas are found in a 
rare volume, called ‘*‘ Autos Sacramen- 


VOL. II. 34 


sus Loas y Entremeses,”” Madrid, 1655, 
Ato. 

45 A loa entitled ‘* El Cuerpo de 
Guardia,” by Luis Enriquez de Fon- 
seca, and performed by an amateur 
company at Naples on Easter eve, 
1669, in honor of the queen of Spain, 
is as long as a swynete, and much like 
one. It is—together with another low 
and several curious bayles— part of a 
play on the subject of Viriatus, entitled 
‘‘The Spanish Hannibal,” and to be 
found in a collection of his poems, less 
in the Italian manner than might be 
expected from a Spaniard who lived and 
wrote in Italy. Fonseca published the 
volume containing them all at Naples, 
in 1683, 4to, and called it ‘‘Ocios de 
los Estudios”; a volume not worth 
reading, and yet not wholly to be passed 
over. 

46 Roxas, Viage, ff. 189-193. 


530 


ENTREMESES. [Perron II. 
others, Figueroa complains that he had been obliged 
still to listen to a ballad before he was permitted to 
reach the regular drama which he had come to hear ; ” 
—so importunate were the audience for what was 
lightest and most amusing. At the end of the first 
act, though perhaps preceded by another dance, came 
the first of the two entremeses, — a sort of “ crutches,” 
as the editor of Benavente well calls them, “that were 
given to the heavy comedias to keep them from falling.” 
Nothing can well be gayer or more free than these 
favorite entertainments, which were generally written 
in the genuine Castilian idiom and spirit.* At first, 
they were farces, or parts of farces, taken from 

*450 * Lope de Rueda and his school; but afterwards, 
Lope de Vega, Cervantes, and the other writers 

for the theatre, composed entremeses better suited to the 
changed character of the drama in their times.” Their 
subjects were generally chosen from the adventures of 
the lower classes of society, whose manners and follies 
they ridiculed; many of the earlier of the sort ending, 
as one of the Dogs in Cervantes’s dialogue complains 
that they did too often, with vulgar scuffles and blows.” 
But later, they became more poetical, and were min- 
gled with allegory, song, and dance; taking, in fact, 
whatever forms and tone were deemed most attractive. 
They seldom exceeded a few minutes in length, and 
never had any other purpose than to relieve the atten- 


47 Cigarrales de Toledo, 1624, pp. 104 
and 403. Figueroa, Pasagero, 1617, f. 
109, b. 

48 Sarmiento, the literary historian 
and critic, in a letter cited in the 
**Declamacion contra los Abusos de 
la Lengua Castellana,” (Madrid, 1793, 
Ato, p. 149,) says: ‘‘I never knew 
what the true Castilian idiom was till 
1 read entremeses.”’ 

#9 The origin of entremeses is dis- 


tinctly set forth in Lope’s ‘‘ Arte Nuevo 
de hacer Comedias” ; and both the first 
and third volumes of his collection of 
plays contain entremeses ; besides which, 
several are to be found in his Obras Su- 
eltas ;—-almost all of them amusing. 
The entremeses of Cervantes are at the 
end of his Comedias, 1615. 

59 Novelas, 1783, Tom. II. p. 441. 
**Coloquio de los Perros.” 


Cuap, XXVI.] SAYNETES. — DANCES. 531 


tion of the audience, which it was supposed might have 
been taxed too much by the graver action that had 
preceded them.” With this action they had, properly, 
nothing to do ; — though in one instance Calderon has 
ingeniously made his entremes serve as a graceful con- 
clusion to one of the acts of the principal drama.” 

The second act was followed by a similar extremes, 
music, and dancing; and after the third, the poetical 
part of the entertainment was ended with a saynete or 
bonne bouche, first so called by Benavente, but differing 
from the entremeses only in name, and written best by 
Cancer, Deza y Avila, and Benavente himself, — in 
short, by those who best succeeded in the entreme- 
ses.* Last of all came a national dance, which 
*never failed to delight the audience of ali * 451 
classes, and served to send them home in good- 
humor when the entertainment was over.” 

Dancing, indeed, was very early an important part 
of theatrical exhibitions in Spain, even of the religious, 
and its importance has continued down to the present 
day. This was natural. From the first intrmations of 
history and tradition in antiquity, dancing was the 
favorite amusement of the rude inhabitants of the 
country ;*° and, so far as modern times are concerned, 


51 A good many are to be found in 
the ‘‘ Joco-Seria”’ of Quifiones de Bena- 
vente. 

52 « H] Castillo de Lindabridis,” end 
of Act I. There is an entremes called 
‘*The Chestnut Girl,” very amusing as 
far as the spirited dialogue is concerned, 
but immoral enough in the story, to be 
found in Chap. 15 of the ‘‘ Bachiller 
Trapaza.” 

53 Mad. d’Aulnoy, Tom. I. p. 56. 

54 ©, Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p 
277. The entremeses of Cancer are to 
found in his Obras, Madrid, 1761, 4to; 
and among the Autos, etc., 1655, re- 
ferred to in note 44 ;— those of Deza y 
Avila, in his ‘‘ Donayres de Tersicore,” 


1663 ; and those of Benavente, in his 
‘*“ Joco-Seria,” 1653. The volume of 
Deza y Avila—marked Vol. I., but I 
think the only one that ever appeared 
—is almost filled with light, short | 
compositions for the theatre, under the 
name of bayles, entremeses, swynetes, and 
mogigangas ; the last being a sort of 
mumming. Some of them are good ; 
all are characteristic of the state of the 
theatre in the middle of the seventeenth 
century. 
59 Al fin con un baylezito 
Iba la gente contenta 
Roxas, Viage, 1614, f. 48. 

56 The Gaditane puelle were the most 

famous ; but see, on the whole subject 


532 DANCES. [Perron II. 


dancing has been to Spain what music has been to 
Italy, a passion with the whole population. In conse- 
quence of this, it finds a place in the dramas of Enzina, 
Vicente, and Naharro ; and, from the time of Lope de 
Rueda and Lope de Vega, appears in some part, and 
often in several parts, of all theatrical exhibitions. An 
amusing instance of the slight grounds on which it was 
introduced may be found in “The Gran Sultana” of 
Cervantes, where one of the actors says, — 


There ne’er was born a Spanish woman yet 
But she was born to dance ; 


and a specimen is immediately given in proof of the 
assertion.” 

Many of these dances, and probably nearly all of 
them, that were introduced on the stage, were accom- 
panied with words, and were what Cervantes calls 

“recited dances.” ® Such were the well-known 
*452 “ Xacaras,’ —”* roistering ballads, in the dialect 


of the rogues,— which took their name from 


of the old Spanish dances, the notes to 
Juvenal, by Ruperti, Lipsiz, 1801, 8vo, 
Sat. XI. vv. 162-164, and the curious 
discussion by Salas, ‘‘ Nueva Idea de la 
Tragedia Antigua,” 1633, pp. 127, 128. 
Gifford, in his remarks on the passage 
in Juvenal, (Satires of Decimus Junius 
Juvenalis, Philadelphia, 1803, 8vo, Vol. 
II., p. 159,) thinks that it refers to 
‘‘neither more nor less than the fan- 
dango, which still forms the delight of 
all ranks in Spain,” and that in the 
phrase ‘‘testarwm crepitus” he hears 
**the clicking of the castanets, which 
accompanies the dance.” 

57 Jornada III. Everybody danced. 
The Duke of Lerma was said to be the 
best dancer of his time, being premier 
to Philip IV., and afterwards a cardi- 
nal. (Don Quixote, ed. Clemencin, 
Tom. VI., 1839, p. 272.) Philip IV., 
the Duke’s master, too, is said to have 
been an extraordinary dancer. See Dis- 


cursos sobre el Arte del Danzado, by 


Juan Gomez de Blas, 12mo, 1642, cited 
by Gayangos. Cervantes was evidently 


a lover of dancing, and sometimes uses 
happy phrases about it. ‘‘ Danza como 
el pensamiento,” he says of a charming 
little girl in Don Quixote, Parte II. ec. 
48. See also the ‘‘ Gitanilla” in sev- 
eral places. 

58 <«* Danzas habladas” is the singular 
phrase applied to a pantomime with 
singing and dancing in Don Quixote, 
Parte 1]. c. 20. The bayles of Fonseca, 
referred to in a preceding note (45), are 
a fair specimen of the singing and dan- 
cing on the Spanish stage in the middle 
of the seventeenth century. One of 
them is an allegorical contest between 
Love and Fortune; another, a discus- 
sion on Jealousy ; and the third, a woo- 
ing by Peter Crane, a peasant, carried 
on by shaking a purse before the dam- 
sel he would win ;—all three in the 
ballad measure, and none of them ex- 
tending beyond a hundred and twenty 
lines, or possessing any merit but a few 
jests. Renjifo says (ed. 1727, p. 175) 
that the bayles were always short and 
merry. 


Cnar. XXVI.] DANCES. 5aD 


the bullies who sung them, and were at one time rivals 
for favor with the regular entremeses.’ Such, too, were 
the more famous “ Zarabandas”; graceful, but volup- 
tuous dances, that were known from about 1588, and, 
as Mariana says, received their name from a devil in 
woman’s shape at Seville, though elsewhere they are 
said to have derived it from a similar personage found 
at Guayaquil in America.” Another dance, full of 
mad revelry, in which the audience were ready some- 
times to join, was called “ Alemana,” probably from its 
German origin, and was one of those whose discon- 
tinuance Lope, himself a great lover of dancing, always 
regretted. Another was “‘ Don Alonso el Bueno,” so 
named from the ballad that accompanied it; and yet 
others were called “ El Caballero,” “La Carreteria,” 
“Las Gambetas,’ “Hermano Bartolo,” and “La Zapa- 
teta.” ® 

Most of them were free or licentious in their ten- 
dency. Guevara says that the Devil invented them 
all; and Cervantes, in one of his farces, admits that 


59 Some of them are very brutal, like 136-138.) Lopez Pinciano, in his 


one at the end of ‘‘Crates y Hippar- 
chia,” Madrid, 1636, 12mo; one in the 
‘*Enano de las Musas”; and several 
in the ‘‘Ingeniosa Helena.” The best 
are in Quifiones de Benavente, ‘‘ Joco- 
Seria,” 1653, and Solis, ‘‘ Poesias,” 
1716. There was originally a distinc- 
tion between bayles and danzas, now 
no longer recognized ;— the danzas be- 
ing graver and more decent. See a note 
of Pellicer to Don Quixote, Parte II. 
c. 48; partly discredited by one of Cle- 
mencin on the same passage. 

69 Covarrubias, ad verbum Caraban- 
da. Pellicer, Don Quixote, 1797, Tom. 
I. pp. cliii-clvi, and Tom. V. p. 102. 
There is a list of many ballads that were 
sung with the zarabandas in a curious 
satire entitled ‘‘ The Life and Death of 
La Zarabanda, Wife of Anton Pintado,” 
1603 ;—the ballads being given as a 
bequest of the deceased lady. (C, Pel- 
licer, Origen, Tom. I. pp. 129-131, 


* Filosofia Antigua Poética,” 1596, pp. 
418-420, partly describes the zara- 
banda, and expresses his great disgust 
at its indecency ; and in the Preface to 
Florando de Castilla, 1588, (see post, 
Chap. XXVII., note,) a book is cited, 
called ‘*‘ La Vida de la Carabanda, ra- 
mera publica de Guaiacan. Even the 
author of the spwriows Second Part of 
the Guzman de Alfarache(Lib. III. cap. 7) 
is shocked at its voluptuous coarseness. 

61 Dorotea, Acto I. se. 8. 

62 Other names of dances are to be 
found in the ‘‘ Diablo Cojuelo,” Tranco 
I., where all of them are represented as 
inventions of the Devil on Two Sticks ; 
but these are the chief. See, also, Co- 
varrubias, Art. Zapato. Figueroa, who 
published his Placa Universal in 1615, 
is equally severe on all public dancing, 
and, after abusing it through two pages, 
ends thus: ‘‘En suma es un exercicio 
hallado por el Demonio.” f. 200, b. 


Do4 POPULAR CHARACTER OF THE DRAMA. [Perron II. 


the Zarabanda, which was the most obnoxious 
* 453 to censure, could, indeed, *have had no better 

origin.” He, however, was not so severe in his 
judgment on others. He declares that the dances ac- 
companied by singing were better than the entremeses, 
which, he adds disparagingly, dealt only in hungry 
men, thieves, and brawlers.* But whatever may have 
been individual opinions about them, they occasioned 
great scandal, and, in 1621, kept their place on the 
theatre only by a vigorous exertion of the popular will 
in opposition to the will of the government. As it 
was, they were for a time restrained and modified ; but 
still no one of them was absolutely exiled, except the 
licentious Zarabanda, — many of the crowds that 
thronged the court-yards thinking, with one of their 
leaders, that the dances were the salt of the plays, and 
that the theatre would be good for nothing without 
them. 

Indeed, in all its forms, and in all its subsidiary 
attractions of ballads, entremeses and saynetes, music, 
and dancing, the old Spanish drama was essentially 
a popular entertainment, governed by the popular 
will. In any other country, under the same circum- 
stances, it would hardly have risen above the con- 
dition in which it was left by Lope de Rueda, when 
it was the amusement of the lowest classes of the 
populace. But the Spaniards have always been a 
poetical people. There is a romance in their early 
history, and a picturesqueness in their very costume 
and manners, that cannot be mistaken. A deep en- 
thusiasm runs, like a vein of pure and rich ore, at 

63 Cuevas de Salamanca. There isa the ‘‘Ocios de Ignacio Alvarez Pelli- 
curious bayle entremesado of Moreto, on cer,’ s. 1. 1685, 4to, p. 51. 
the subject of Don Rodrigo and La 64 See the ‘‘Gran Sultana,” as already 


Cava, in the Autos, etc., 1655, f. 92; cited, note 57. 
and another, called ‘‘El Médico,” in 65 C. Pellicer, Origen, Tom. I. p. 102. 


Cuap. XXVI.] NUMBER OF DRAMATIC AUTHORS. 535 


the bottom of their character, and the workings of 
strong passions and an original imagination are every- 
where visible among the wild elements that break out 
on its surface. The same energy, the same fancy, the 
same excited feelings, which, in the fourteenth, fif 
teenth, and sixteenth centuries, produced the most 
various and rich popular ballads of modern times, were 
not yet stilled or quenched in the seventeenth. The 
same national character, which, under Saint Fer- 
dinand * and his successors, drove the Moorish * 454 
crescent through the plains of Andalusia, and 

found utterance for its exultation in poetry of such re- 
markable sweetness and power, was still active under 
the Philips, and called forth, directed, and controlled a 
dramatic literature which grew out of the national 
genius and the condition of the mass of the people, and 
which, therefore, in all its forms and varieties, is essen- 
tially and peculiarly Spanish. 

Under an impulse so wide and deep, the number of 
dramatic authors would naturally be great. As early 
as 1605, when the theatre, such as it had been consti- 
tuted by Lope de Vega, had existed hardly more than 
fifteen years, we can easily see, by the discussions in 
the first part of Don Quixote, that it already filled a 
large space in the interests of the time; and from the 
Prologo prefixed by Cervantes to his plays in 1615, it 
is quite plain that its character and success were al- 
ready settled, and that no inconsiderable number of its 
best authors had already appeared. Even as early as 
this, dramas were composed in the lower classes of 
society. Villegas tells us of a tailor of Toledo who 
wrote many; Guevara gives a similar account of a 
sheep-shearer at Ecija; and Figueroa, of a well-known 
tradesman of Seville ; — all in full accordance with the 


536 THEIR POPULAR TONE. [Perrop II. 


representations made in Don Quixote concerning the 
shepherd Chrisostomo, and the whole current of the 
story and conversations of the actors in the “ Journey” 
of Roxas.® In this state of things, the number of 
writers for the theatre went on increasing out of all 
proportion to their increase in other countries, as ap- 
pears from the lists given by Lope de Vega, in 1630; 
by Montalvan, in 1632, when we find seventy-six dra- 
matic poets living in Castile alone; and by Antonio, 
about 1660. During the whole of this century, there- 
fore, we may regard the theatre as a part of the pop- 
ular character in Spain, and as having become, in the 
proper sense of the word, more truly a national the- 
atre than any other that.has been produced in modern 
times.” 

*It might naturally have been foreseen, that, 
upon a movement like this, imparted and sus- 
tained by all the force of the national genius, any acci- 
dents of patronage or opposition would produce little 
effect. And so in fact it proved. The ecclesiastical 
authorities always frowned upon it, and sometimes 


* 455 


66 Figueroa, Pasagero, 1617, f. 105. 
Villegas, Erdticas Najera, 1617, 4to, 
Tom. II. p. 29. 
co V. Figueroa, Plaza Universal, Ma- 
drid, 1733, folio, Discurso 91, first 
printed 1615. 

6&7 Two facts may be mentioned as 
illustrations of the passion of Spaniards 
for their national drama. 

The first is, that the wretched cap- 
tives on the coast of Barbary solaced 
themselves with it in those vast Banos 
which were their prison-houses at night. 
One instance of this we have noticed as 
early as 1575, when Cervantes was in 
Algiers (ante, Chap. XI.). Another is 
noticed as having occurred in 1589 (see 
Gallego, ‘‘Criticon” No. IV., 1835, 
p. 43). And another shows that, in 
1646, they must have been of frequent 
occurrence at Tunis, for the Moorish 
prince already referred to (Chap. XVII. 


note 30) had been present, as if it were 


Diablo Cojuelo, Tran- . 


nothing remarkable, at the representa- 
tion of such a Spanish play the night 
before he escaped. Indeed, I have no 
doubt that the acting of Spanish plays 
both at Algiers and Tunis was a common 
solace of the Christian captives there. 

The other fact is, that so many dra- 
mas were written by persons in the 
opposite or higher classes of society. 
Perhaps the most amusing instance of 
this indulgence is to be found in the 
case of the Duque de Estrada, who 
lived from 1589 to about 1650, and 
who says, in his autobiography, that, 
during his exile, he wrote a considera- 
ble number of plays, six on his own ad- 
ventures ;—so true was it that every- 
body from tailors to princes wrote plays 
upon all sorts of subjects, from the 
most solemn in the Scriptures down to 
the most frivolous in their own lives. 
Memorial Historico, Tom. XII., Ma- 
drid, 1860, p. 504. 


Car. XXVI.] THEIR POPULAR TONE. 537 


placed themselves so as directly to resist its progress ; 
but its sway and impulse were so heavy, that it passed 
over their opposition, in every instance, as over a slight 
obstacle. Nor was it more affected by the seductions 
of patronage. Philip the Fourth, for above forty years, 
favored and supported it with princely munificence. 
He built splendid saloons for it in his palaces; he 
wrote for it; he acted in improvisated dramas. The 
reigning favorite, the Count Duke Olivares, to flatter 
the royal taste, invented new dramatic luxuries, such 
as that of magnificent floating theatres, constructed by 
Cosme Lotti, on the sheets of water in the gardens of 
the Buen Retiro®? All royal entertamments seemed 
in fact, for a time, to take a dramatic tone, or tend to 
it. But still the popular character of the theatre it- 
self was unchecked and unaffected ; —still the plays 
acted in the royal residences, before the principal 
persons in the kingdom, were the same with those 
performed before the populace in the court-yards of 
Madrid ;—- and when other times and other princes 
came, the old Spanish drama left the halls and palaces, 
where it had been so long flattered, with as 

little of a *courtly air as that with which it * 456 
had originally entered them.® 


67} Something of the same sort had 
been done in the preceding reign, when 
the Duke de Lerma caused a floating 
stage to be erected on the Tormes, and 
had the ‘‘Casa Confusa” of his son-in- 
law, the Conde de Lemos, acted on it 
in presence of Philip III., whose privado 
the Duke de Lerma then was. But the 
mad folly of the Conde Duque de Oli- 
vares on the waters of the Buen Retiro, 
carried out as it was by the curious in- 
ventions o: the Florentine architect, un- 
doubtedly surpassed in wasteful and 
fantastic extravagance anything that 
could have been undertaken at Sala- 
manca, or wherever else on the Tormes 
this whimsical exhibition — of which 


T have seen only a very slight notice— 
may have occurred. C. Pellicer, Teatro, 
Tom. II. p, 135. 

68 Mad. d’Aulnoy, fresh from the 
stage of Racine and Moliere, then the 
most refined and best appointed in 
Europe, speaks with great admiration 
of the theatres in the Spanish palaces, 
though she ridicules those granted to 
the public. (Voyage, etc., ed. 1693, 
Tom. III. p. 7, and elsewhere.) But 
Mad. de Villars, French Ambassadress 
at the same period, who says that she 
went often with the Queen to these 
palatial representations, gives a very 
different account of them. ‘‘ Rien n’est 
si détestavle,” she says in one of her 


538 GREAT NUMBER OF DRAMAS. [Perron II. 


The same impulse that made it so powerful in other 
respects filled the old Spanish theatre with an almost 
incredible number of cavalier and heroic dramas, dra- 
mas for saints, sacramental autos, entremeses, and farces 
of all names. Their whole amount, at the beginning 
of the eighteenth century, has been estimated to ex- 
ceed thirty thousand, of which four thousand eight 
hundred by unknown authors had been, at one time, 
collected by a single person in Madrid.” Their char- 
acter and merit were, as we have seen, very various. 
Still, the circumstance that they were all written sub- 
stantially for one object and under one system of 
opinions gave them a stronger air of general resem- 
blance than might otherwise have been anticipated. 
For it should never be forgotten, that the Spanish 
drama in its highest and most heroic forms was still 
a popular entertainment, just as it was in its farces 
and ballads. Its purpose was, not only to please all 
classes, but to please all equally ; —those who paid 
three maravedis, and stood crowded together under a 
hot sun in the court-yard, as well as the rank and 
fashion, that lounged in their costly apartments above, 
and amused themselves hardly less with the motley 
scene of the audiences in the patio than with that 
of the actors on the stage.” Whether the story this 


letters ; and in another, dated March, 
1680, giving an account of a play thus 
acted at noonday, she says ‘‘L’on y 
mouroit de froid.” (Lettres, ed. 1760, 
pp. 79 and 81.) One way, however, in 
which the kings patronized the drama 
was, probably, not very agreeable to 
the authors, if it were often practised ; 
I mean that of requiring a piece to be 
acted nowhere but in the royal pres- 
ence. This was the case with Gerd- 
nimo de Villayzan’s ‘‘Sufrir mas por 
querer mas.” Comedias por Diferentes 
Autores, Tom. XXV., Zaragoza, 1633, 
SAG. bh. 

69 Schack’s Geschichte der dramat. 
Lit. in Spanien, Berlin, 1846, Tom. 


III. 8vo, pp. 22-24; a work of great 
value. 

7 These rooms and balconies, from 
which the favored and rich witnessed 
the plays as they were acted, seem early 
to have been fitted up in a costly man- 
ner. Antonio Perez, whose troubles 
began in 1579, —that is, before the 
theatre came into the hands of Lope 
de Vega, — had a ‘‘palco” which was 
fitted up with tapestries, and cost him 
‘*treinta reales diarios,’” — this luxury 
being thought of consequence enough 
to be entered in the inventory of his 
effects after he had been arrested by 
order of Philip II.—See post, Chap. 
XXXVII. 


Cuar. XXVI.] COSTUMES. 039 


mass of people saw enacted were probable or not, was 
to them a matter of small consequence. But it 

was necessary * that it should be interesting. * 457 
Above all, it was necessary that it should be 
Spanish ; and therefore, though its subject might be 
Greek or Roman, Oriental or mythological, the char- 
acters represented were always Castilian, and Castilian 
after the fashion of the seventeenth century, — gov- 
erned by Castilian notions of gallantry and the Cas- 
tilian point of honor. 

It was the same with their costumes. Coriolanus 
was dressed like Don John of Austria; Aristotle came 
on the stage with a curled periwig and buckles in his 
shoes, like a Spanish Abbé; and Madame d’Aulnoy 
says, the Devil she saw was dressed lke any other 
Castilian gentleman, except that his stockings were 
flame-colored and he wore horns.” But however the 
actors might be dressed, or however the play might 
confound geography and history, or degrade heroism 
by earicature, still, in a great majority of cases, dra- 
matic situations are skilfully produced; the story, full 
of bustle and incident, grows more and more urgent 
as it advances; and the result of the whole is, that, 
though we may sometimes have been much offended, 
we are sorry we have reached the conclusion, and find 
on looking back that we have almost always been 
excited, ‘and often pleased. 

The Spanish theatre, in many of its attributes and 
characteristics, stands, therefore, by itself. It takes no 
cognizance of ancient example; for the spirit of an- 
tiquity could have little in common with materials so 
modern, Christian, and romantic. It borrowed noth- 
ing from the drama of France or of Italy ; for it was 


71 Relation du Voyage d’Espagne, ed. 1693, Tom. I. p. 55. 


540 CHARACTER OF THE DRAMA. [Perrop II. 


in advance of both when its final character was not 
only developed, but settled. And as for England, 
though Shakespeare and Lope were contemporaries, 
and there are poits of resemblance between them 
which it is pleasant to trace and difficult to explain, 
still they and their schools, undoubtedly, had not the 
least influence on each other.“ The Spanish drama is, 
therefore, entirely national. Many of its best subjects 

are taken from the chronicles and traditions 
*458 familiar to the audience * that listened to them, 

and its prevalent versification reminded the 
hearers, by its sweetness and power, of what had so 
often moved their hearts in the earliest outpourings 
of the national genius. With all its faults, then, this 
old Spanish drama, founded on the great traits of the 
national character, maintained itself in the popular 
favor as long as that character existed in its original 
attributes; and even now it remains one of the most 
striking and one of the most interesting portions of 


modern literature. 


714 One reason, I suppose, was the 
hatred of the two nations for each other 
during the reigns of Elizabeth and 
James, and those of the Philips. Still 
it is odd and amusing to compare the 
‘‘Castelvines y Monteses” of Lope de 
Vega, published 1647, and the ‘‘ Ban- 
dos de Verona” of Roxas, 1679, with 
the ‘‘Romeo and Juliet” of Shake- 


° 


speare, 1597. There is a curious no- 
tice of Lope’s play in Grey’s Notes 
on Shakespeare, 1754, Vol. II. pp. 
249-262, and a translation of the 
whole play of Lope, made with skill 
and taste by F. W. Cosens, 4to, London, 
1869, printed at the Chiswick press, but 
not published. Unhappily the original 
was not worth the trouble. 


* CHARTER i xv TI. * 459 


HISTORICAL NARRATIVE POEMS. —SEMPERE. — CAPATA. — AYLLON. — SANZ. — 
FERNANDEZ. — ESPINOSA. — COLOMA.— ERCILLA AND HIS ARAUCANA, WITH 
OSORIO’S CONTINUATION. —ONA.—GABRIEL LASSO DE LA VEGA.—SAAVE- 
DRA. — CASTELLANOS. — CENTENERA. — VILLAGRA. — RELIGIOUS NARRATIVE 
POEMS. — BLASCO. — MATA.—VIRUES AND HIS MONSERRATE. — BRAVO. — 
VALDIVIELSO. — HOJEDA. — DIAZ AND OTHERS. — IMAGINATIVE NARRATIVE 
POEMS.—ESPINOSA AND OTHERS.—BARAHONA DE SOTO.—-BALBUENA AND 
HIS BERNARDO. 


Epic poetry, from its general dignity and preten- 
sions, is. almost uniformly placed at the head of the 
different divisions of a nation’s literature. But in 
Spain, though the series of efforts in that direction 
begins early and boldly, and has been continued with 
diligence down to our own times, little has been 
achieved that is worthy of memory. The Poem of the 
Cid is, indeed, the oldest attempt at narrative poetry 
in the modern languages of Western Europe that de- 
serves the name; and, composed, as it must have been, 
above a century before the appearance of Dante, and 
two centuries before the time of Chaucer, it is to be 
regarded as one of the most remarkable outbreaks © 
of poetical and national enthusiasm on record. But 
the few similar attempts that were made at long inter- 
vals in the periods immediately subsequent, like those 
we witness in “ The Chronicle of Fernan Gonzalez,” in 
“The Life of Alexander,” and in “The Labyrinth” 
of Juan de Mena, deserve to be mentioned chiefly in 
order to mark the progress of Spanish culture during 
the lapse of three centuries. No one of them showed 
the power of the grand old narrative Poem of the Cid. 


bay HISTORICAL POEMS. [Perrop IL. 


At last, when we reach the reign of Charles 
*460 the Fifth, *or rather, when we come to the 
immediate results of that reign, it seems as if 
the national genius had been inspired with a poetical 
ambition no less extravagant than the ambition for 
military glory which their foreign successes had stirred 
up in the masters of the state. The poets of the time, 
or those who regarded themselves as such, evidently 
imagined that to them was assigned the task of wor- 
thily celebrating the achievements, in the Old World 
and in the New, which’had really raised their country 
to the first place among the powers of Europe, and 
which it was then thought not presumptuous to hope 
would lay the foundation for a universal monarchy. 

In the reign of Philip the Second, therefore, we have 
an extraordinary number of epic or rather narrative 
poems, —in all above twenty, — full of the feelings 
which then animated the nation, and devoted to sub- 
jects connected with Spanish glory, both ancient and 
recent, — poems in which their authors endeavored to 
imitate the great Italian epics, already at the height 
of their reputation, and fondly believed they had 
succeeded. But the works they thus produced, with 
hardly more than a single exception, belong oftener 
to’ patriotism than to poetry; the best of them being 
so closely confined to matters of fact, that they come 
with nearly equal pretensions into the province of his- 
tory, while the rest fall into a dull, chronicling style, 
which makes it of little consequence under what class 
they may chance to be arranged. 

The first of these historical poems is the “ Catlen? 
of HierOnimo Sempere, published in 1560, and devoted 
to the victories and glories of Charles the Fifth, whose 
name, in fact, it bears. The author was a merchant,— 


Cuar. XXVII.] THE CARLO FAMOSO. 543 


a circumstance strange in Spanish literature, — and it 
is written in the Italian offava rima; the first part, 
which consists of eleven cantos, bemg devoted to the 
wars in Italy, and ending with the captivity of Francis 
the First; while the second, which consists of nineteen 
more, contains the contest in Germany, the Emperor’s 
visit to Flanders, and his coronation at Bologna. 

* The whole fills two volumes, and ends abruptly * 461 
with the promise of another, devoted to the 
capture of Tunis; a promise which, happily, was never 
redeemed.' 

The next narrative poem in the order of time was 
published by Luis de Capata, only five years later. It 
is the “ Carlo Famoso,” devoted, like the last, to the 
fame of Charles the Fifth, and, like that, more praised 
than it deserves to be by Cervantes, when he places 
both of them among the best poetry in Don Quixote’s 
library. Its author declares that he was thirteen years 
in writing it; and it fills fifty cantos, comprehending 
above forty thousand lines in octave stanzas. But 
never was poem avowedly written in a spirit so prosaic. 
It gives year by year the life of the Emperor, from 1522 
to his death at Yuste in 1558; and, to prevent the pos- 
sibility of mistake, the date is placed at the top of each 





1 **Ta Carolea,” Valencia, 1560, 2 
tom. 12mo. The first volume ends 


poem, in two hundred and eighty-three 
octave stanzas, apparently written about 


with accounts of the city of Valencia, 
in the course of which he commemorates 
some of its distinguished families and 
some of its scholars, particularly Luis 
Vives. Notices of Sempere are to be 
found in Ximeno, Tom. I. p. 135, in 
Fuster, Tom. I. p. 110, and in the 
notes to Polo’s ‘‘ Diana,” by Cerda, 
p- 380. 

A poem entitled ‘‘ Conquista de la 
Nueva Castilla,” first published at Paris 
in 1848, 12mo, by J. A. Sprecher de 
Bernegg, may, perhaps, be older than 
the ‘*Carolea.” It is a short narrative 


the middle of the sixteenth century, by 
some unknown author of that period, 
and devoted to the glory of Francisco 
Pizarro, from the time when he left 
Panama, in 1524, to the fall of Ata- 
balipa. It was found in the Imperial 
Library at Vienna, among the manu- 
scripts there, but it seems to have been 
edited with very little critical care. It 
does not, however, deserve more than 
it received. It is wholly worthless ; — 
not better than we can easily suppose 
to have been written by one of Pizarro’s 
rude followers. 


544 VARIOUS HISTORICAL POEMS. [Periop II. 


page, and everything of an imaginative nature or of 
doubtful authority is distinguished by asterisks from 
the chronicle of ascertained facts. Two passages in it 
are interesting, one of which gives the circumstances 
of the death of Garcilasso, and the other an ample ac- 
count of Torralva, the great magician of the time of 
Ferdinand and Isabella ; — the same person who is com- 
memorated by Don Quixote when he rides among the 
stars. Such, however, as the poem is, Capata had great 
confidence in its merits, and boastfully published it at 
his own expense. But it was unsuccessful, and he died 
regretting his folly? 

* Diego Ximenez de Ayllon, of Arcos de la 
| Frontera, who served as a soldier under the 
Duke of Alva, wrote a poem on the history of the Cid, 
and dedicated it, in 1579, to his great leader. But this, 
too, was little regarded at the time, and is now hardly 
remembered. Nor was more favor shown to Hippo- 
lito Sanz, a knight of the Order of Saint John, in Malta, 
who shared in the brave defence of that island against 
the Turks in 1565, and wrote a poetical history of that 


* 462 


2 «Carlo Famoso de Don Luis de 
Capata,” Valencia, 1565, 4to. At the 
opening of the fiftieth canto, he con- 
gratulates himself that he has ‘‘reached 
the end of his thirteen years’ journey ”’ ; 
but, after all, is obliged to hurry over 
the last fourteen years of his hero’s life 
in that one canto. For Garcilasso, see 
Canto XLI. ; and for Torralva’s story, 
which strongly illustrates the Spanish 
character of the sixteenth century, see 
Cantos XXVIII., XXX., XXXI., and 
XXXII., with the notes of the com- 
mentators to Don Quixote, Parte II. 
c. 41. Capata figured as a knight, I 
think, at the famous festivities of Bins 
in 1549. Calvete de Estrella, Viage, 
ec., Anveres, folio, 1552, f. 196. 

8 Antonio (Bib. Nov., Tom. I. p. 
323) gives the date and title, and little 
else. My copy, which is the only one 
of the poem known to me, is printed at 


Alcala de Henares, 1579, 4to, 149 leaves, 
double columns. It is dedicated to the 
great Duke of Alva, under whom its 
author had served, and consists chiefly 
of the usual traditions about the Cid, 
told in rather flowing, but insipid, oc- 
tave stanzas. 

In the Library of the Society of His- 
tory at Madrid, MS. D. No. 42, is a 
poem in double redondillas de arte mayor, 
by Fray Gonzalo de Arredondo, on the 
achievements both of the Cid and of 
the Count Fernan Gonzalez, the merits 
of each being nicely balanced in alter- 
nate cantos. It is hardly worth notice, 
except from the circumstance that it 
was written as early as 1522, when the 
unused license of Charles V. to print it 
was given. Fray Arredondo is also the 
author of ‘‘ El Castillo Inexpugnable 
Paes de la Fé,” Burgos, 1528, 
fol. 


Cuar. XXVIL] ALONSO DE ERCILLA. 545 


defence, under the name of “La Maltea,’ which was 
published in 1582.4 

Other poems were produced during the same-period, 
not unlike those we have just noticed ; — such as Espi- 
nosa’s continuation of the “Orlando Furioso,” which 
is not entirely without merit; and “The Decade on 
the Passion of Christ,” by Coloma, which is grave and 
dignified, if nothing else{ — both of them in the 
manner of the contemporary Italian heroic and nar- 
rative poems. But neither obtained much regard 
when it first appeared, and neither of them can now 
be said to be remembered. Indeed, there is but one 
long poem of the age of Philip the Second, which 
obtained an acknowledged reputation from the first, 
and has preserved it ever since, both at home and 


abroad ;—I mean the “ Araucana.”® 
*Its author, whose personal character is im- * 463 
pressed on every part of his poem, was Alonso 


* Ximeno, Tom. I. p. 179, and Velaz- 
quez, Dieze, p. 385. 

5 Nicolas de Espinosa’s second part 
of the ‘‘Orlando Furioso” is better 
known, as there are editions of it in 
1555, 1556, 1557, and 1559, the one of 
1556 being printed at Antwerp in 4to. 
Juan de Coloma’s ‘‘ Década de la Pa- 
sion,” in ten books, terza rima, was 
printed in 1576, 18mmo, ff. 166, at Caller 
(Cagliari) in Sardinia, where its author 
was Viceroy; and on which island this 
is said to have been the first book that 
was ever printed. The last statement 
is, I suppose, not true, or the fact 
would have been set forth in the li- 
cense to print granted by Coloma him- 
self, because that license declares for- 
mally that the Rev. Nicolas Cajiyellas, 
Vicar-General of Caller, had already, 
with much cost and toil, introduced 
printing into the island. The manu- 
script is certified to have been exam- 
ined and approved by a commission of 
Cardinals at Rome ;— probably a com- 
pliment to the high position of the 
author. The book, of which I have a 
copy, is neatly printed for the time. 


VOL. II. 35 


See, also, Rodriguez, Bib. Valentina, 
pp. 251, 252, and Ximeno, Tom. I. 
p. 175. It is praised by Cervantes in 
his ‘*‘Galatea,” and is a sort of har- 
mony of the Gospels, not without a 
dignified movement in its action, and 
interspersed with narratives from the 
Old Testament. The story of St. Ve- 
ronica, (Lib. VII.,) and the description 
of the Madonna as she sees her son 
surrounded by the rude crowd and as- 
cending Mount Calvary under the bur- 
den of his cross, (Lib. VIII.,) are pas- 
sages of considerable merit. Coloma 
says he chose the terza rima ‘‘ because 
it is the gravest verse in the language, 
and the best suited to any grave sub- 
ject.” In a poem in the same volume, 
on the Resurrection, he has, however, 
taken the octave rhyme; and half a 
century earlier, the terza rima had been 
rejected by Pedro Fernandez de Ville- 
gas, as quite unfitted for Castilian po- 
etry. See ante, Vol. I. p. 445, 6, note. 
There are poems by Coloma in the Can- 
cionero of 1554, noticed ante, Vol. I. 
p. 393, note 8. 


546 


ALONSO DE ERCILLA. [Pertop II, 


de Ercilla, third son of a gentleman of Biscayan origin, 
—a proud circumstance, to which the poet himself 
alludes more than once.® He was born in 1533, at 
Madrid, and his father, a member of the council of 
Charles the Fifth, was able, from his influence at 
court, to have his son educated as one of the pages 
of the prince who was afterwards Philip the Second, 
and whom the young Ercilla accompanied in his jour- 
neys to different parts of Europe between 1547 and 
1551. In 1554, he was with Philip in England, when 
that prince married Queen Mary ;’ and news having 
arrived there, as he tells us in his poem, of an outbreak 
of the natives in Chili which threatened to give trouble 
to their conquerors, many noble Spaniards then at the 
English court volunteered, in the old spirit of their 
country, to serve against the infidels. 
Among those who presented themselves to join in 
this romantic expedition was Ercilla, then twenty- 
*464 one years * old. By permission of the prince, 
he says, he exchanged his civil for military ser- 
vice, and for the first time girded on his sword in ear- 
nest. But the beginning of the expedition was not 
auspicious. Aldrete, a person of military experience, 
who was in the suite of Philip, and under whose stan- 
dard they had embarked in the enterprise, died on the 
way; and after their arrival, Ercilla and his friends 


6 In Canto XXVII. he says: ‘‘ Behold 
the rough soil of ancient Biscay, whence 
it is certain comes that nobility now 
extended through the whole land; be- 
hold Bermeo, the head of Biscay, sur- 
rounded with thorn-woods, and above its 
port the old walls of the house of Ercilla, 
a house older than the city itself. 

7 On this occasion there were great 
rejoicings in Spain, for it was believed 
that the English heresy was now at an 
end. At Toledo, in 1555, there was 
published by Juan del Angulo, Tratado 


Primero of the ‘‘ Flor de las Solemnes 
Alegrias que se hizieron en la Imperial 
Ciudad de Toledo por la Conversion 
del Reyno de Ingleterra.” (4to, ff. 31.) 
The solemnities and frolics of the occa- 
sion are described, and the verses in 
old-fashioned villancicos and flowing 
redondillas are given, or at least a 
part of them; for the Segundo Tra- 
tado seems never to have been printed. 
An account of it may be found in the 
Spanish translation of this History, 
Tom. III. pp. 561, 562. 


Cuap. XXVII.] ALONSO DE ERCILLA. 547 


were sent, under the less competent leading of a son 
of the viceroy of Peru, to achieve the subjugation of 
the territory of Arauco,—an inconsiderable spot of 
earth, but one which had been so bravely defended 
against the Spaniards by its inhabitants as to excite 
respect for their heroism in many parts of Europe. 
The contest was a bloody one; for the Araucans were 
desperate and the Spaniards cruel. LErcilla went 
through his part of it with honor, meeting the enemy 
in seven severe battles, and suffering still more severely 
from wanderings in the wilderness, and from long ex- 
posure to the harassing warfare of savages. 

Once he was in greater danger from his countrymen 
and from his own fiery temper than he was, perhaps, 
at any moment from the common enemy. In an inter- 
val of the war, when a public tournament was held in 
honor of the accession of Philip the Second to the 
throne, some cause of offence occurred durimg the 
jousting between Ercilla and another of the cavaliers. 
The mimic fight, as had not unfrequently happened on 
similar occasions in the mother country, was changed 
into a real one; and, in the confusion that followed, the 
young commander, who presided at the festival, rashly 
ordered both the principal offenders to be put to death, 
—a sentence which he reluctantly changed into im- 
prisonment and exile, though not until after Ercilla had 
been actually placed on the scaffold for execution. 

* When he was released, he seems to have *465 
engaged in the romantic enterprise of hunting 
down the cruel and savage adventurer, Lope de 


8 « Arauco,” says Ercilla, ‘‘is a small 
province, about twenty leagues long 
and twelve broad, which produces the 
most warlike people in the Indies, and 
is therefore called The Unconquered 
State.” Its people are still proud of 
their name. Luis de Belmonte, in his 


preface to the play in honor of the Mar- 
quis of Cattete, 1622, (noticed post, ) says, 
when speaking of the smallness of the 
Araucan territory: ‘‘Its soil is nourished 
with the bones of Spaniards. Alexan- 
der conquered the east with fewer sol- 
diers than Arauco has cost Chili.” 


548 THE ARAUCANA. (Perron II. 


Aguirre; but he did not arrive in the monster’s neigh- 
borhood till the moment when his career of blood was 
ended. From this time we know only, that, after suffer- 
ing from a long illness, Ercilla returned to Spain in 1562, 
at the age of twenty-nine, having been eight years in 
America. At first, his unsettled habits made him rest- 
less, and he visited Italy and other parts of Europe ; 
but in 1570 he married a lady connected with the 
ereat family of Santa Cruz, Doftia Maria de Bazan, 
whom he celebrates at the end of the eighteenth canto 
of his poem. About 1576, he was made gentleman of 
the bedchamber to the Emperor of Germany, — per- 
haps a merely titular office; and about 1580, he was 
again in Madrid and in poverty, complaining loudly of 
the neglect and ingratitude of the king whom he had 
so long served, and who seemed now to have forgotten 
him. During the latter part of his life we almost en- 
tirely lose sight of him, and know only that he began 
a poem in honor of the family of Santa Cruz, and that 
he died as early as 1595. 

Ercilla is to be counted among the many instances 
in which Spanish poetical genius and heroism were one 
feeling. He wrote in the spirit in which he fought; 
and his principal work is as military as any portion of 
his adventurous life. Its subject is the very expe- 
dition against Arauco which occupied eight or nine 
years of his youth; and he has simply called it “La 
Araucana,” making it a long heroic poem in thirty- 
seven cantos, which, with the exception of two or three 
trifles of no value, is all that remains of his works. 
Fortunately, it has proved a sufficient foundation for 
his fame. But though it 1s unquestionably a poem 
that discovers much of the sensibility of genius, it has 
great defects ; for it was written when the elements 


Cuap. XXVII.] THE ARAUCANA. 549 


of epic poetry were singularly misunderstood in Spain, 
and Ercilla, misled by such models as the “ Carolea” 
and “Carlo Famoso,” fell easily into serious mistakes. 
The first division of the Araucana is, in fact, 
a versified * history of the early part of the * 466 
war. It is geographically and statistically ac- 
curate. It is a poem, thus far, that should be read 
with a map, and one whose connecting principle is 
merely the succession of events. Of this rigid accu- 
racy he more than once boasts; and, to observe it, he 
begins with a description of Arauco and its people, 
amidst whom he lays his scene, and then goes on 
through fifteen cantos of consecutive battles, negotia- 
tions, conspiracies, and adventures, just as they oc- 
curred. He composed this part of his poem, he tells 
us, in the wilderness, where he fought and suffered ; 
taking the night to describe what the day had brought 
to pass, and writing his verses on fragments of paper, 
or, when these failed, on scraps of skins; so that it is, 
in truth, a poetical journal, in octave rhymes, of the | 
expedition in which he was engaged. These fifteen 
cantos, written between 1555 and 1563, constitute the 
first part, which ends abruptly in the midst of a violent 
tempest, and which was printed by itself in 1569. 
Ercilla intimates that he soon discovered such a de- 
scription of successive events to be monotonous; and 
he determined to intersperse it with incidents more 
interesting and poetical. In his second part, therefore, 
which was not printed till 1578, we have, it is true, 
the same historical fidelity in the main thread of the 
narrative, but it is broken with something like epic 
machinery ; such as a vision of Bellona, in the seven- 
teenth and eighteenth cantos, where the poet witnesses 
in South America the victory of Philip the Second at 


550 THE ARAUCANA. [Pusntop II. 


Saint Quentin, the day it was won in France ;—the 
cave of the magician Fiton, in the twenty-third and 
twenty-fourth cantos, where he sees the battle of Le- 
panto, which happened long afterwards, fought by 
anticipation ;? — the romantic story of Tegualda in 
the twentieth, and that of Glaura in the twenty-fourth : 
so that, when we come to the end of the second 

part, —which concludes, again, with needless 
*467 ™“abruptness, we find that we have enjoyed 

more poetry than we had in the first, if we 
have made less rapid progress in the history. 

In the third part, which appeared in 1590, we have 
again a continuation of the events of the war, though 
with episodes such as that in the thirty-second and 
thirty-third cantos,— which the poet strangely devotes 
to a defence, after the manner of the old Spanish © 
chronicles, of the character of Queen Dido from the 
imputations cast on it by Virgil,—and that in the 
thirty-sixth, in which he pleasantly gives us much of 
what little we know concerning his own personal his- 
tory.” In the thirty-seventh and last, he leaves all 
his previous subjects, and discusses the right of public 
and private war, and the claims of Philip the Second 
to the crown of Portugal; ending the whole poem, as 
far as he himself ended it, with touching complaints 
of his own miserable condition and disappointed hopes, 
and his determination to give the rest of his life to 
penitence and devotion. 


This can hardly be called an epic. It is an historical 


9 Such visions were, at the time, sup- 
posed to be common. Pedro Nicolas 
Factor, a painter who died in 1583, and 
who is remarkable for having been can- 
onized, claimed to have had several 
such ;— among the rest one of this 
same battle of Lepanto, which he saw at 
Valencia while it was fighting in Greece. 
Stirling’s Artists, Vol. I. pp. 368-379. 


10 The accounts of himself are chief- 
ly in Cantos XIII., XXXVI., and 
XXXVII.; and besides the facts I 
have given in the text, I find it stated 
(Seman. Pintoresco, 1842, p. 195) that 
Ercilla in 1571 received the Order of 
Santiago, and in 1578 was employed by 
Philip II. on an inconsiderable mission 
to Saragossa. 


Cav. XXVII.] DOL 


o 


THE ARAUCANA. 


poem, partly in the manner of Silius Italicus, yet seek- 
ing to imitate the sudden transitions and easy style of 
the Italian masters, and struggling awkwardly to incor- 
porate with different parts of its structure some of the 
supernatural machinery of Homer and Virgil. But 
this is the unfortunate side of the work. In other 
respects Ercilla is more successful. His descriptive 
powers, except in relation to natural scenery, are re- 
markable, and, whether devoted to battles or to the 
wild manners of the unfortunate Indians, have not 
been exceeded by any other Spanish poet. His 
speeches, too, are often excellent, especially the re- 
markable one in the second canto, given to Colocolo, 
the eldest of the Caciques, where the poet has been 
willing to place himself in direct rivalship with the 
speech which Homer, under similar circumstances, 
has given to Ulysses in the first book of the 
Thad" *And his characters, so far as the 
Araucan chiefs are concerned, are drawn with 
force and distinctness, and lead us to sympathize with 
the cause of the Indians rather than with that of the 
invading Spaniards. Besides all this, his genius and 
sensibility often break through, where we should least 
expect it, and his Castilian feelings and character still 
oftener; the whole poem being pervaded with that 
deep sense of loyalty which was always a chief ingre- 
dient in Spanish honor and heroism, and which, in Er- 
cilla, seems never to have been chilled by the ingrati- 
tude of the master to whom he devoted his life, and to 
whose glory he consecrated this poem.” 


* 468 


i The great praise of this speech by something in earnest forits fame. (See 


Voltaire, in the Essay prefixed to his 
** Henriade,”’ 1726, first made the Arau- 
cana known beyond the Pyrenees ; and 
if Voltaire had read the poem he pre- 
tended to criticise, he might have done 


his Works, ed. Beaumarchais, Paris, 
1785, 8vo, Tom. X. pp. 394-401.) 
But his mistakes are so gross as to im- 
pair the value of his admiration. 

12 The best edition of the Araucana 


592 OSORIO. [Periop II. 


The Araucana, though one third longer than the 
Tliad, is a fragment; but, as far as the war of Arauco 
is concerned, it was soon completed by the addition 
of two more parts, embracing thirty-three additional 
cantos,— the work of a poet by the name of Osorio, 
who published it in. 1597. Of its author, a native of 
Leon, we know only that he describes himself to have 
been young when he wrote it, and that in 1598 he 
gave the world another poem, on the wars of the 
knights of Malta and the capture of Rhodes. His 
continuation of the Araucana was several times printed, 
but has long since ceased to be read. Its more inter- 
esting portions are those in which the poet relates, with 
apparent accuracy, many of the exploits of Ercilla 
among the Indians;— the more absurd are those in 
which, under the pretext of visions of Bellona, an ac- 
count is given of the conquest of Oran by Cardinal 

Ximenes, and that of Peru by the Pizarros, 
*469 neither of which has anything to do with * the 

main subject of the poem. Taken as a whole, 
it is nearly as dull and chronicling as anything of its 
class that preceded it.” 


is that of Sancha, Madrid, 1776, 2 tom. 
12mo; and the most exact life of its 
author is in Alvarez y Baena, Tom. I. 
p. 32. Hayley published an abstract 
of the poem, with bad translations of 
some of its best passages, in the notes 
to his third epistle on Epic Poetry (Lon- 
don, 1782, 4to); but there is a better 
and more ample examination of it in 
the ‘‘Caraktere der vornehmsten Dich- 
ter aller Nationen,” Leipzig, 1798, 8vo, 
Band II. Theil I. pp. 140 and 349. As 
to the ingratitude of Philip II. it is 
not remarkable. He had no poetical 
side to his character. Paton tells us 
he was ‘‘enemigo de la‘ poesia.” See 
his address ‘‘ Al Letor” of the Pro- 
verbios Morales de Alonso de Varros, 
Baeca, 1615. Paton knew what he 
said. 

13 The last edition of the continua- 


tion of the Araucana, by Diego de Sa- 
nisteban Osorio, of which I have any 
knowledge, was printed with the poem 
of Ercilla at Madrid, 1733, folio. Oso- 
rio also published ‘‘ Primera y Segun- 
da Parte de las Guerras de Malta y 
Toma de Rodas,” Madrid, 1599, 8vo, 
ff. 297. Butitis not better than the 
continuation of the Araucana. There 
is a copy in the Bibliothéque de 1’ Arse- 
nal, Paris. 

In 1862 there was published a poem 
not unlike the Araucana ; I mean the 
‘*Puren Indomito.” It was contem- 
porary with the invasion of Arauco and 
Puren, being a small part of that de- 
voted country ; it is, as was Ercilla’s 
poem, an account of the Spanish at- 
tempt to conquer it. The author of 
the ‘‘Puren, Indomito,” was Alvarez de 
Toledo, a captain in the expedition he 


Cuar, XXVIL.] OSORIO. 553 


But there is one difficulty about both parts of this 
poem, which must have been very obvious at the time. 
Neither shows any purpose of doing honor to the com- 
mander in the war of Arauco, who was yet a repre- 
sentative of the great Mendoza family, and a leading 
personage at the courts of Philip the Second and 
Philip the Third. Why Osorio should have passed 
him over so slightly is not apparent; but Ercilla was 
evidently offended by the punishment inflicted on 
him after the unfortunate tournament, and took this 


mode of expressing his displeasure." 


describes, and his poem, extending to 
twenty-four cantos and eighteen hun- 
dred octave stanzas, is as purely dry 
narrative as a mere description of facts 
can make it. It ends abruptly in the 
middle of a stanza. Being apparently 
accurate in its dates, it has sometimes 
been cited as a trustworthy authority 
in the history of Chili, but it was never 
published until 1862, when it was print- 
ed from a manuscript in the National 
Library at Madrid, by the house of 
Frank, in Paris and Leipzig, as the 
first volume of a ‘‘ Bibliotheca Ameri- 
cana, collection d’ouvrages inedits ou 
rares,”’ —a series, which, if it is not 
opened brilliantly, may, it is hoped, be 
continued. 

14 The injustice, as it was deemed by 
many courtly persons, of Ercilla to Gar- 
cia de Mendoza, fourth Marquis of Ca- 
fete, who commanded the Spaniards in 
the war of Arauco, may have been one 
of the reasons why the poet was neg- 
lected by his own government after his 
return to Spain, and was certainly a 
subject of remark in the reigns of Philip 
III. and IV. In 1613, Christéval Sua- 
rez de Figueroa, the well-known poet, 
published a life of the Marquis, and 
dedicated it to the profligate Duke of 
Lerma, then the reigning favorite. It 
is written with some elegance and some 
affectation in its style, but is full of 
flattery to the great family of which the 
Marquis was a member ; and when its 
author reaches the point of time at 
which Ercilla was involved in the 
trouble at the tournament, already 
noticed, he says: ‘‘ There arose a dif- 


A poet of Chili, 


ference between Don Juan de Pineda 
and Don Alonso de Ercilla, which went 
so far, that they drew their swords. 
Instantly a vast number of weapons 
sprang from the scabbards of those on 
foot, who; without knowing what to 
do, rushed together and made a scene 
of great confusion. A rumor was spread, 
that it had been done in order to cause 
a revolt ; and from some slight circum- 
stances it was believed that the two 
pretended combatants had arranged it 
all beforehand, They were seized by 
command of the general, who ordered 
them to be beheaded, intending to in- 
fuse terror into the rest, and knowing 
that severity is the most effectual way 
of insuring military obedience. The 
tumult, however, was appeased ; and 
as it was found, on inquiry, that the 
whole affair was accidental, the sen- 
tence was revoked. The becoming rigor 
with which Don Alonso was treated 
caused the silence in which he endeav- 
ored to bury the achievements of Don 
Garcia. He wrote the wars of Arauco, 
carrying them on by a body without a 
head ;— that is, by an army, with no 
intimation that it had a general. Un- 
grateful for the many favors he had 
received from the same hand, he left 
his rude sketch without the living colors 
that belonged to it ; as if it were possi- 
ble to hide the valor, virtue, forecast, 
authority, and success of a nobleman 
whose words and deeds always went 
together and were alike admirable. 
But so far could passion prevail, that 
the account thus given remained in the 
minds of many as if it were an apocry- 


554 ONA. [Periop II. 
*470 therefore, Pedro de Ojia, attempted, * so far as ! 
Ercilla was concerned, to repair the wrong, and, 
in 1596, published his “ Arauco Subjugated,” in nine- 
teen cantos, which he devoted expressly to the honor 
of the neglected commander. Ofia’s success was incon- 
siderable, but was quite as much as he deserved. His 
poem was once reprinted; but, though it consists of 
sixteen thousand lines, it stops in the middle of the 
events it undertakes to record, and has never been 
finished. It contains consultations of the infernal 
powers, like those in Tasso, and a love-story, in imi- 
tation of the one in Ercilla; but it is mainly historical, 
and ends at last with an account of the capture of 
“that English pirate, Richerte Aquines,’ —no doubt 
Sir Richard Hawkins, who was taken in the Pacific in 
1594, under circumstances not more unlike those which 
Ona describes than might be expected in a poetical 


version of them by a Spaniard.” 


phal one; whereas, had it been dutifully 
written, its truth would have stood au- 
thenticated to all. For, by the consent 
of all, the personage of whom the poet 
ought to have written was without fault, 
gentle, and of great humanity ; and he 
who was silent in his praise strove in 
vain to dim his glory.” Hechos de Don 
Garcia de Mendoza, por Chr, Suarez de 
Figueroa, Madrid, 1613, 4to, p. 103. 
The theatre seemed especially anxious 
to make up for the deficiencies of the 
greatest narrative poet of the country. 
In 1622, a play appeared, entitled ‘‘ Al- 
gunas Hazafias de las muchas de Don 
Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza” ; a poor 
attempt at flattery, which, on its title- 
page, professes to be the work of Luis 
de Belmonte, but, in a sort of table of 
contents, is ascribed chiefly to eight 
other poets, among whom are Antonio 
Mira de Mescua, Luis Velez de Gue- 
vara, and Guillen de Castro. Of the 
‘‘Arauco Domado” of Lope de Vega, 
printed in 1629, and the humble place 
assigned in it to Ercilla, I have spoken, 
ante, p. 207. To these should be added 
two others, namely, the ‘‘Governador 


Prudente” of Gaspar de Avila, in Tom. 
XXI. of the Comedias Escogidas, print- 
ed in 1664, in which Don Garcia arrives 
first on the scene of action in Chili, and 
distinguishes his command by acts of 
wisdom and clemency ; and in Tom. 
XXII., 1665, the ‘‘ Espafioles en Chili,” 
by Francisco Gonzalez de Bustos, de- 
voted in part to the glory of Don 
Garcia’s father, and ending with the 
impalement of Caupolican and the bap- 
tism of another of the principal In- 
dians ; each as characteristic of the age 
as was the homage of all to the Men- 
dozas. 

15 «¢Arauco Domado, compuesto por 
el Licenciado Pedro de Ofia, Natural 
de los Infantes de Engol en Chile, ete., 
impreso en la Ciudad de los Reyes,” 
(Lima,) 1596, 12mo, and Madrid, 1605. 
Besides which, Oa wrote a poem on 
the earthquake at Lima in 1599. An- 
tonio is wrong in suggesting that Oa 
was not a native of America. 

Gayangos adds, that in 1639 there 
was printed at Seville a poem by Ojta, 
entitled ‘‘Ignacio de la Cantabria,” 
which is, in fact, a mere life of Saint 


Cuar. XXVII.] LASSO DE LA VEGA.—SAAVEDRA. 555 


But as the marvellous discoveries of the conquerors 
of America continued to fill the world with their fame, 
and to claim at home no small part of the interest that 
had so long been given to the national achieve- 
ments in * the Moorish wars, it was natural that * 471 
the greatest of all the adventurers, Hernando 
Cortés, should come in for his share of the poetical 
honors that were lavishly scattered on all sides. In 
fact, as early as 1588, Gabriel Lasso de la Vega, a 
young cavalier of Madrid, stirred up by the example 
of Ercilla, published a poem, entitled “The Valiant 
Cortés,’ which six years later he enlarged and printed 
anew under the name of “ La Mexicana’”’; and in 1599, 
Antonio de Saavedra, a native of Mexico, published his 
‘Indian Pilgrim,” which contains a regular life of Cor- 
tés in above sixteen thousand lines, written, as the 
author assures us, on the ocean, and in seventy days. 
Both are mere chronicling histories; but the last is 
not without freshness and truth, from the circumstance 
that it was the work of one familiar with the scenes 
he describes, and with the manners of the unhappy 
race of men whose disastrous fate he records.” 

In the same year with the “Valiant Cortés” ap- | 
peared the first volume of the lives of some of the 
early discoverers and adventurers in America, by Juan 
de Castellanos, an ecclesiastic of Tunja in the kingdom 


Ignatius Loyola, that has no other 
merit than facile octave verses. The 
‘‘Arauco Domado” is reprinted in the 
Bibliotecaof Rivadeneyra, Tom. XXIX., 
and there is a notice of Ofia in the 
Preface to that volume, 1854. He 
wrote his Arauco at Lima. 

16 «*Cortés Valeroso, por Gabriel Las- 
so de la Vega,” Madrid, 1588, 4to, and 
‘“‘La Mexicana,” Madrid, 1594, 8vo. 
Tragedies said to be much like those of 
Virues, and other works, which [ have 
not seen, are also attributed to him. 


(Hijos de Madrid, Tom. II. p. 264.) 
‘El Peregrino Indiano, por Don Anto- 
nio de Saavedra Guzman, Viznieto del 
Conde del Castellar, nacido en Mexico,” 
Madrid, 1599, 12mo. It is in twenty 
cantos of octave stanzas; and though 
we know nothing else of its author, we 
know, by the laudatory verses prefixed 
to his poem, that Lope de Vega and 
Vicente Espifiel were among his friends. 
It brings the story of Cortés down to 
the death of Guatimozin. 


556 CASTELLANOS. — CENTENERA. [Perron II. 


of New Granada; but one who, like many others that 
entered the Church in their old age, had been a soldier 
in his youth, and had visited many of the countries, 
and shared in many‘of the battles, he describes. It 
begins with an account of Columbus, and ends, about 
1560, with the expedition of Orsua and the crimes of 
Aguirre, which Humboldt has called the most dramatic 
episode in the history of the Spanish conquests, and of 
which Southey has made an interesting, though pain- 
ful story. Why no more of the poem of Castellanos 
was published does not appear. More was 
* 472 known to exist; * and at last the second and 
third parts were found, and, with the testimony 
of Ercilla to the truth of their narratives, were pub- 
lished in 1847, bringing their broken accounts of the 
Spanish conquests in America, and especially in that 
part of it sce known as Colombia, down to about 
1588. The whole, except the conclusion, is written in 
the Italian octave stanza, and extends to nearly ninety 
thousand lines, in pure, fluent Castilian, which soon 
afterwards became rare; but in a chronicling spirit, 
which, though it adds to its value as history, takes 
from it all the best characteristics of poetry.” 
Other poems of the same general character followed. 
One on the discovery and settlement of La Plata is by 
Centenera, who shared in the trials and sufferings of 
the original conquest, — a long, dull poem, in twenty- 
eight cantos, full of credulity, and yet not without 
value as a record of what its author saw and learned 


lv The poem of Castellanos is singu- 
larly enough entitled ‘‘ Hlegias de Va- 
rones Ilustres de Indias,” and we have 
some reason to suppose it originally 
consisted of four parts. (Antonio, Bib. 
Nov., ‘Tom. I. p. 674.) The first was 
printed at Madrid, 1589, 4to; but the 
second and third, discovered, I believe, 


in the National Library of that city, 
were not published till they appeared 
in the fourth volume of the Biblioteca 
of Aribau, Madrid, 1847, 8vo. Elegias 
seems to have been used by Castellanos 
in the sense of ewlogies. Of their au- 
oes the little we know is told by him- 
self. 


Cuar. XXVII.] CENTENERA. — VILLAGRA. D507 


in his wild adventures. It contains, in the earlier 
parts, much irrelevant matter concerning Peru, and is 
throughout a strange mixture of history and geogra- 
phy, ending with three cantos devoted to “ Captain 
Thomas Candis, captain-general of the queen of Eng- 
land,” in other words, Thomas Cavendish, half gentle- 
man, half pirate, whose overthrow in Brazil, in 1592, 
Centenera thinks a sufficiently glorious catastrophe for 
his long poem. Another similar work on an 

expedition into New *Mexico was written by * 473 
Gaspar de Villagra, a captain of infantry, who 

served in the adventures he describes, and published 
his account in. 1610, after his return to Spain. But 
both belong to the domain of history rather than to 


that of poetry.” 


No less characteristic of the national temper and 


18 “ Argentina, Conquista del Rio de 
la Plata y Tucuman, y otros Sucesos 
del Peru,” Lisboa, 1602, 4to. There is 
a love-story in Canto XII., and some 
talk about enchantments elsewhere ; 
but, with a few such slight exceptions, 
the poem is evidently pretty good geog- 
raphy, and the best history the author 
could collect on the spot. I know it 
only in the reprint of Barcia, who takes 
it into his collection entirely for its his- 
torical claims. Figueroa (Placa Uni- 
versal, 1615, f. 345, b) calls Captain 
Cavendish ‘‘Candi,” and puts him 
and ‘‘ Ricarte Aquines ” — Sir Richard 
Hawkins — with Dragut and other Bar- 
bary pirates, who were so much hated 
in Spain. 

One thing has much struck me in 
this and all the poems written by Span- 
iards on their conquests in America, 
and especially by those who visited the 
countries they celebrate. It is, that 
there are no proper sketches of the pecu- 
liar scenery through which they passed, 
though much of it is among the most 
beautiful and grand that exists on the 
globe, and must have been filling them 
constantly with new wonder. The truth 
is, that, when they describe woods and 
rivers and mountains, their descrip- 


tions, often eloquent, would as well fit 
the Pyrenees or the Guadalquivir as 
they do Mexico, the Andes, or the 
Amazon. Perhaps this deticiency is 
connected with the same causes that 
have prevented Spain from ever pro- 
ducing a great landscape painter. At 
any rate, it is a strong contrast to the 
state of English literature, where two 
of the most remarkable productions of 
modern times, resting in no small de- 
gree on descriptions of nature, are to be 
traced to the connection of England 
and America;—I mean the ‘‘ Tem- 
pest” and ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe.” And 
yet neither Shakespeare nor Defoe ever 
visited the scenery their genius peopled 
with such marvellous creations. (See 
post, Chap. XXXI., near the end, on 
descriptive poetry. 

19 «*Ta Conquista del Nuevo Mexico, 
por Gaspar de Villagra,” was printed 
at Alcala in 1610, 8vo. It is in thirty- 
four cantos of blank verse, with a coarse 
portrait of the author prefixed, giving 
his age as fifty-five. There must be 
more than thirteen thousand dull verses, 
in which history and pagan machinery 
are mixed up in the wildest way. I 
have seen it only in the Bibliothéque 
de l’Arsenal, Paris. 


BLASCO. — MATA. — VIRUES. 


598 


[Preriop II. 


genius than these historical and heroic poems were 
the long religious narratives in verse produced during 
the same period and later. To one of these — that 
of Coloma on “ The Passion of Christ,” printed in 1576 
— we have already alluded. Another, “The Universal 
Redemption,” by Blasco, first printed in 1584, should 
also be mentioned. It fills fifty-six cantos, and con- 
tains nearly thirty thousand lines, embracing the his- 
tory of man from the creation to the descent of the 
Holy Spirit, and reading in many parts like one of the 
old Mysteries.” A third poem, by Mata, not unlike 
the last, extends through two volumes, and is devoted 
to the glories of Saint Francis and five of his followers; 
a collection of legends in octave stanzas, put together 
without order or effect, the first of which sets forth the 
meek Saint Francis in the disguise of a knight-errant. 
None of the three has any value.” 

* The next in the list, as we descend, is one 
of the best of its class, if not the very best. It 
is the “ Monserrate”’ of Virues, the dramatic and lyric 
poet, so much praised by Lope de Vega and Cervantes. 
The subject is taken from the legends of the Spanish 
Church in the ninth century. Garin, a hermit living 


* 474 


20 ** Universal Redencion de Fran- 
cisco Hernandez Blasco,” Toledo, 1584, 
1589, 4to; Madrid, 1609, 4to; Alcala, 
1612. He was of Toledo, and claims 
that a part of his poem was a revelation 
to a nun. A Second Part, by his 
brother Luis Hernandez Blasco, still 
longer, appeared in 1613, at Alcala, 
which I have never seen. Gayangos 
says it is in twenty-five cantos, making 
five thousand eight hundred octave 
stanzas, or more than fifty thousand 
lines. 

21 <*Fl Cavallero Assisio, Vida de 
San Francisco y otros Cinco Santos, 
por Gabriel de Mata,” Tom. I., Bilbao, 
1587, with a woodcut of St. Francis on 
the title-page, as a knight on horseback 


and in full armor; Tom. II., 1589, 4to. 
A third volume was promised, but it 
never appeared. The five saints are 
St. Anthony of Padua, Sta. Buenaven- 
tura, St. Luis the Bishop, Sta. Berna- 
dina, and Sta. Clara, all Minorites.: 
St. Anthony preaching to the fishes, 
whom he addresses (Canto XVII.) as 
hermanos peces, is very quaint. 

Gayangos notices an allegorical poem 
of Mata, entitled ‘‘ Cantos Morales,” 
which was printed at Valladolid in 
1594, and of which he gives extracts, 
that approach nearer to poetry than 
anything in the Life of St. Francis. 
It is in thirteen cantos, each of which 
has a long prose exposition of its moral 
meaning. 


559 


Cnuap. XXVII.] VIRUES, THE MONSERRATE. 


on the desolate mountain of Monserrate, in Catalonia, 
is guilty of one of the grossest and most atrocious 
crimes of which human nature is capable. Remorse 
seizes him. He goes to Rome for absolution, and 
obtains it only on the most degrading conditions. 
His penitence, however, is sincere and complete. In 
proof of it, the person he has murdered is restored to — 
life, and the Madonna, appearing on the wild mountain 
where the unhappy man had committed his crime, 
consecrates its solitudes by founding there the mag- 
nificent sanctuary which has ever since made the Mon- 
serrate holy ground to all devout Spaniards. 

That such a legend should be taken by a soldier 
and a man of the world as a subject for poetry would 
hardly have been possible in the sixteenth century in 
any country except Spain. But many a soldier there, 
even in our own times, has ended a life of excesses in 
a hermitage as rude and solitary as that of Garin ;” 
and in the time of Philip the Second, it seemed noth- 
ing marvellous that one who had fought at the battle 
of Lepanto, and who, by way of distinction, was 
commonly called “the Captain * Virues,” should * 475 
yet devote the leisure of his best years to a 
poem on Garin’s deplorable life and revolting adven- 
tures. Such, at least, was the fact. The “ Monserrate,” 
from the moment of its appearance, was successful. 
Nor has its success been materially diminished at any 


22 In a hermitage on a mountain near 
Cérdova, where about thirty hermits 
lived in stern silence and subjected to 
the most cruel penances, I once saw a 
person who had served with distinction 
as an officer at the battle of Trafalgar, 
and another who had been of the house- 
hold of the first queen of Ferdinand VII. 
The Duke de Rivas and his brother, 
Don Angel, — now (1862) wearing the 
title himself, but more distinguished as 
a poet, and for his eminent merits in 


the diplomatic and military service of 
his country, than for his high rank, — 
who led me up that rude mountain, 
and filled a long and beautiful morning 
with strange sights and adventures and 
stories, such as can be found in no 
country but Spain, assured me that 
cases like those of the Spanish officers 
who had become hermits were still of 
no infrequent occurrence in their coun- 
try. This. was in 1818. 


560 


BRAVO. — VALDIVIELSO. [Perron II. 
period since. It has more of the proper arrangement 
and proportions of an epic than any other of the seri- 
ous poems of its class in the language; and in the 
richness and finish of its versification, it is not sur- 
passed, if it is equalled, by any of those of its age. 
The difficulties Virues had to encounter lay in the 
nature of his subject and the low character of his 
hero; but in the course of twenty cantos, interspersed 
with occasional episodes, like those on the battle of 
Lepanto, and the glories of Monserrate, these dis- 
advantages are not always felt as blemishes, and, as 
we know, have not prevented the “ Monserrate”’ from 
being read and admired in an age little inclined to 
believe the legend on which it is founded.” 

The “ Benedictina,” by Nicholas Bravo, was pub- 
lished in 1604, and seems to have been intended to 
give the lives of Saint Benedict and his principal fol- 
lowers, in the way in which Castellanos had given the 
lives of Columbus and the early American adventurers, 
but was probably regarded rather as a book of devo- 
tion for the monks of the brotherhood, in which the 
author held a high place, than as a book of poetry. 
Certainly, to the worldly, that is its true character. 
Nor can any other than a similar merit be assigned to 
two poems for which the social position of their author, 
Valdivielso, insured a wider temporary reputation. 


23 Of Virues a notice has been already less. Not so the ‘‘ Azucena Silvestre ” 


given, (ante, p. 64,) to which it is only 
necessary to add here that there are 
editions of the Monserrate of 1588, 
1601, 1602, 1609, and 1805; the last 
(Madrid, 8vo) with a Preface written, I 
think, by Mayans y Siscar. A poem 
by Francisco de Ortega, on the same 
subject, appeared about the middle of 
the eighteenth century, in small quarto, 
without date, entitled ‘‘ Origen, Anti- 
guedad é Invencion de nuestra Sefiora 
de Monserrate.’’ It is entirely worth- 


of Zorrilla, 1845, which is a graceful 
version of the same legend. 

In the ‘‘ Jahrbuch fiir Romanische 
und Englische Literatur,” (Berlin, 1860, 
pp. 139-163,) is an excellent life of 
Virues, and a judicious and tasteful 
criticism of his works, by the Baron 
von Miinch- Bellinghausen, which I 
should have been glad to have received 
earlier, — before I had printed my ac- 
count of the dramas of Virues, in Chap. 
VIII. of this Period. 


Cuar, XXVIL.] HOJEDA. 561 


The first is on the history of Joseph, the hus- 
band of Mary, written, apparently, * because * 476 
Valdivielso himself had received in baptism the 
name of that saint. The other is on the peculiarly 
sacred image of the Madonna, preserved by a series of 
miracles from contamination during the subjugation of 
Spain by the Moors, and ever since venerated in the 
cathedral of Toledo, to whose princely archbishop Val- 
divielso was attached as a chaplain. Both of these 
poems are full of learning and of dulness, enormously 
long, and comprehend together a large part of the his- 
tory, not only of the Spanish Church, but of the king- 
dom of Spain.™ 

Lope’s religious epic or narrative poems, of which we 
have already spoken, appeared at about the same time 
with those of Valdivielso, and enjoyed the success that 
attended whatever bore the name of the great popu- 
lar author of his age. But better than anything of 
this class produced by him was the “Christiada” of 
Diego de Hojeda, printed in 1611, and taken in a slight 
degree from the Latin poem with the same title by 
Vida, but not enough indebted to it to impair the au- 
thor’s claims to originality. Its subject is very simple. 
It opens with the Last Supper, and it closes with the 


24 «Ta Benedictina de F. Nicolas 
Bravo,” Salamanca, 1604, 4to. Bravo 
was a professor at Salamanca and Ma- 
drid, and died in 1648, the head of a 
rich monastery of his order in Navarre 
(Antonio, Bib. Nov., Tom. IT. p. 151). 
Of Valdivielso I have spoken, ante, 
Chap. XXI. His ‘‘ Vida, ete. de San 
Josef,” printed 1607 and 1647, makes 
above seven hundred pages in the edi- 
tion of Lisbon, 1615, 12mo; and his 
‘*Sagrario de Toledo,” Barcelona, 1618, 
12mo, fills nearly a thousand ;— both 
in octave stanzas, as are nearly all the 

oems of their class. The San Josef 
is reprinted in the Biblioteca of Ri- 
vadeneyra, Tom. XXIX., 1854. The 


VOR. 10. 36 


*¢ Exposicion parafrastica del Psalterio”’ 
exists, I think, only in the edition of 
Madrid, 1623, 4to. 

Before the Benedictina, I might have 
noticed the ‘‘ Historia de San Ramon 
de Peftiafort,” ec., ‘‘en coplas Castella- 
nas,” by Vicente Miguel de Moradell, 
Barcelona, 1603, of which I found a 
copy in the Bibliotheque de 1’Arsenal 
at Paris, but it is among the poorest of 
the devout poems of the period, though 
the language is not wanting in purity. 
I might, also, notice ‘‘ La “Divina Se- 
mana,” —a poem on the Creation, di- 
vided into seven days, by Joan Dossi, 
(Barcelona, 1610, 12mo, ff. 248, ) — but 
it is too poor. : 


962 DIAZ, ESCOBAR, AND OTHERS. [Prriop II. 


Crucifixion. The episodes are few and appropriate, 
except one, — that in which the dress of the Saviour in 
the garden is made an occasion for describing all hu- 
man sins, whose allegorical history is represented as if 
woven with curses into the seven ample folds of the 
mantle laid on the shoulders of the expiatory 
*477 victim, who thus * bears them for our sake. 
The vision of the future glories of his Church 
granted to the sufferer is, on the contrary, happily con- 
ceived and well suited to its place; and still better are 
the gentle and touching consolations offered him in 
prophecy. Indeed, not a little skill is shown in the 
general structure of the poem, and its verse is un- 
commonly sweet and graceful. If the characters were 
drawn with a firmer hand, and if the language were 
always sustained with the dignity its subject demands, 
the “ Christiada”’ would stand deservedly at the side 
of the “ Monserrate”’ of Virues. Even after making 
this deduction from its merits, no other religious poem 
in the language is to be placed before it.” 
In the same year, Alonso Diaz, of Seville, published 
a pious poem on another of the consecrated images of 
the Madonna; and afterwards, in rapid succession, we 
have heroic poems, as they are called, on Loyola, and 
on the Madonna, both by Antonio de Escobar ;— one 
on the creation of the world, by Azevedo, but no more 
an epic than the “ Week” of Du Bartas, from which it © 
is imitated; — one on the story of Tobias, by Caudi- 


25 ‘Tia Christiada de Diego de Hoje- 
da,” Sevilla, 1611, 4to, reprinted in Ri- 
vadeneyra’s ‘‘ Biblioteca,” Tom. XVII., 
1851. It has the merit of having only 
twelve cantos, and, if this were the 
proper place, it might well be compared 
with Milton’s ‘‘ Paradise Regained ” for 
its scenes with the devils, and with 
Klopstock’s ‘* Messiah” for the scene 
of the crucifixion, Of the author we 


know only that he was a native of Se- 
ville, but went young to Lima, in Peru, 
where he wrote this poem, and where he 
died at the head of a Dominican convent 
founded by himself. (Antonio, Bib. Nov., 
Tom. I. p. 289.) There is a rifacimento 
of the ‘‘Christiada,” by Juan Manuel 
de Berriozabal, printed Madrid, 1841, 
18mo, in a small volume; not, however, 
an improvement on the original. 


Cuar. XXVIJ.] RELIGIOUS NARRATIVE POEMS. 563 


villa Santaren ;—and one on “ The Brotherhood of 
the Five Martyrs of Arabia,” by Rodriguez de Vargas ; 
the last being the result of a vow to two of their num- 
ber, through whose intercession the author believed 
himself to have been cured of a mortal disease. But 
all these, and all of the same class that followed them, 
—the “David” of Uziel, — Calvo’s poem on “The 
Virgin,” — Salgado’s on St. Nicolas de Tolentino, — 
Vivas’s “ Life of Christ,” —Juan Davila’s “ Passion of 
the Man-God,”’ — the “Samson” of Enriquez Gomez, 
— the “St. Thomas” of Diego Saenz, — another heroic 
poem on Loyola, by Camargo, — and another 

“ Christiad,” by Encisso, — which, taken *to- * 478 
gether, bring the list down to the end of the 

century, —add nothing to the claims or character of 
Spanish religious narrative poetry, though they add 


much to its cumbersome amount.” 


26 <*Poema Castellano de nuestra Se- 
fora de Aguas Santas, por Alonso Diaz,” 
Seville, 1611, cited by Antonio (Bib. 
Nov., Tom. I. p. 21). — ‘‘ San Ignacio 
de Loyola, Poema Herdico,” Valladolid, 
1613, 8vo; and ‘‘ Historia de la Virgen 
Madre de Dios,” 1608, afterwards pub- 
lished with the title of ‘* Nueva Jerusa- 
len Maria,” Valladolid, 1625, 18mo; 
both by Antonio de Escobar y Mendoza, 
and both the work of his youth, since 
he lived to 1668. (Ibid., p. 115.) The 
last of these poems, my copy of which 
is of the fourth edition, absurdly divides 
the life of the Madonna according to 
the twelve precious stones that form 
the foundations of the New Jerusalem 
in the twenty-first chapter of the Reve- 
lation ; each fundamento, as the sepa- 
rate portions or books are called, being 
subdivided into three cantos; and the 
whole filling above twelve thousand 
lines of octave stanzas, which are not 
always without merit, though they gen- 
erally have very little. — ‘‘ Creacion del 
Mundo de Alonso de Azevedo,’”’ Roma, 
1615, 12mo, pp. 270, praised by Rosell 
in the Preface to Rivadeneyra’s collec- 
tion, Vol. XXIX., where it is reprinted. 
— ‘‘Historia de Tobias, Poema por el 


Licenciado Caudivilla Santaren de As- 
torga,” Barcelona, 1615,12mo. It makes 
about twelve hundred octave stanzas, of 
very pure Castilian (the author boasting 
that he was of Toledo, which he calls 
‘* patria mia,” c. xi.) ; but still I find 
no notice of it, and know no copy of it 
except my own. — ‘‘ La Verdadera Her- 
mandad de los Cinco Martires de Arabia, 
por Damian Rodriguez de Vargas,” To- 
ledo, 1621, 4to. It is very short for 
the class to which it belongs, contain- 
ing only about three thousand lines, but 
it is hardly possible that any of them 
should be worse. — ‘‘ David, Poema 
Herdico del Doctor Jacobo Uziel,” Ve- 
netia, 1624, pp. 440; a poem in twelve 
cantos, on the story of the Hebrew 
monarch whose name it bears, written 
in a plain and simple style, evidently 
imitating the flow of Tasso’s stanzas, 
but without poetical spirit, and in the 
ninth canto absurdly bringing a Span- 
ish navigator to the court of Jerusalem. 
— ‘*La Mejor Muger Madre y Virgen, 
Poema Sacro, por Sebastian de Nieva 
Calvo,” Madrid, 1625, 4to. It ends in 
the fourteenth book with the victory 
of Lepanto, which is attributed to the 
intercession of the Madonna and the 


564 URREA. [Periop IL. 


*479  *Of an opposite character to these relig- 
ious poems are the purely, or almost purely, 
imaginative and romantic poems of the same period, 
whose form yet brings them into the same class. 
Their number is not large, and nearly all of them are 
connected more or less with the fictions which Ariosto, 
in the beginning of the sixteenth century, had thrown 
up like brilliant fireworks into the Italian sky, and 
which had drawn to them the admiration of all Europe, 
and especially of all Spain. There a translation of the 
“ Orlando Furioso,” poor indeed, but popular, had been 
published by Urrea before 1550. An imitation soon 
followed, — the one already alluded to as made by Es- 


virtue of the rosary. — ‘* El Santo Mi- 
lagroso. Angustiniano San Nicolas de 
Tolentino,” Madrid, 1628, 4to, by Fr. 
Fernando Camargo y Salgado, praised 
by Gayangos. — ‘‘Grandezas Divinas, 
Vida y Muerte de nuestro Salvador, 
etc., por Fr. Duran Vivas,” found in 
scattered papers after his death, and 
arranged and modernized in its lan- 
guage by his grandson, who published 
it (Madrid, 1643, 4to); a worthless 
poem, more than half of which is 
thrown into the form of a speech from 
Joseph to Pontius Pilate. — ‘‘ Pasion 
del Hombre Dios, por el Maestro Juan 
Davila,” Leon de Francia, 1661, folio, 
written in the Spanish décimas of Es- 
pinel, and filling about three-and-twenty 
thousand lines, divided into six books, 
which are subdivided into estancias, or 
resting-places, and these again into can- 
tos. — ‘Sanson Nazareno, Poema Eré- 
ico, por Ant. Enriquez Gomez,” Ruan, 
1656, 4to, thoroughly infected with 
Gongorism, as is another poem by the 
same author, half narrative, half lyrical, 
called ‘‘ La Culpa del Primer Peregrino,” 
Ruan, 1644, 4to. — ‘‘San Ignacio de 
Loyola, Poema Herdico, escrivialo Her- 
nando Dominguez Camargo,” 1666, 4to, 
a native of Santa Fé de Bogota, whose 
poem, filling nearly four hundred pages 
of octave rhymes, is a fragment pub- 
lished after his death. — ‘‘ La Thoma- 
siada al Sol de la Iglesia y su Doctor 
Santo Thomas de Aquino, ec., por El 
Padre Fray Diego Saenz,” Guatemala, 


1667, 4to, ff. 161; a life of Thomas of 
Aquinas, in various verse, but, as one 
of the aprovaciones says, ‘‘it is com- 
posed of solid and massive theology.” 
— ‘‘La Christiada, Poema Sacro y Vida 
de Jesu Christo, que escrivié Juan Fran- 
cisco de Encisso y Moncon,” Cadiz, 1694, 
4to ; deformed, like almost everything 
of the period when it appeared, with the 
worst taste. — To these might be added 
two poems by Alonso Martin Braones ; 
—one called ‘‘ Epitome de los Triunfos 
de Jesus,” Sevilla, 1686, 4to, and the 
other ‘‘ Epitome de las Glorias de Ma- 
ria,” Sevilla, 1689, 4to. Each consists 
of exactly five hundred octave stanzas, 
very dull, but not in a style so obscure 
as was then common. The first repeats 
two hundred and fifty times the name 
of Jesus, and the last repeats as often 
the name of Mary ; facts which their 
author announces as the chief merits of 
his poems. 

But if any one desires to know how 
numerous are the narrative poems of 
Spain, he needs only to read over the 
**Catalogo de Poemas Castellanos he- 
roicos, religiosos, historicos, fabulosos 
y satiricos,” prefixed by Don Cayetano 
Rosell to Vol. XXIX. of Rivadeneyra's 
Biblioteca, 1854. . There are nearly 
three hundred of them, and although, 
after the Italian masters, and especially 
Tasso, became known in Spain, there 
were many attempts made to imitate 
them, yet not one strictly epic poem was 
produced, except Prince Esquilache’s. 


Ouap, XXVII.] ESPINOSA. 565 


pinosa in 1555. It is called “The Second Part of the 
Orlando, with the True Event of the Famous Battle of 
Roncesvalles, and the End and Death of the Twelve 
Peers of France.” But at the very outset its author 
tells us that “he sings the great glory of Spaniards, 
and the overthrow of Charlemagne and his followers,”’ 
adding significantly, “This history will relate the 
truth, and not give the story as it is told by that 
Frenchman, Turpin.” Of course, we have, instead of 
the fictions to which we are accustomed in Ariosto, 
the Spanish fictions of Bernardo del Carpio and the 
rout of the Twelve Peers at Roncesvalles, — all very 
little to the credit of Charlemagne, who, at the end, 
retreats, disgraced, to Germany. But still, the whole 
is ingeniously connected with the stories of the “ Or- 
lando Furioso,” and carries on, to a considerable extent, 
the adventures of the personages who are its heroes 
and heroines. 

Some of the fictions of Espinosa, however, are very 
extravagant and absurd. Thus, in the twenty- 
second * canto, Bernardo goes to Parisand over- * 480 
throws several of the paladins; and in the 
thirty-third, whose scene is laid in Ireland, he disen- 
chants Olympia and becomes king of the island;—, “ 


both of them needless and worthless innovations on the °=""*~ 
story of Bernardo, as it comes to us in the old Spanish “) y.,.. 
ballads and chronicles. But in general, though it 1s oa cuc), 

certainly not wanting in giants and enchantments, “““°" 


Espinosa’s continuation of the Orlando is less en- _ 


cumbered with impossibilities and absurdities than the celal 
similar poem of Lope de Vega; and, in some parts, is?” ~~ _ 
very easy and graceful in its story-telling spirit. It-~, . +_ 


ends with the thirty-fifth canto, after going through 
above fourteen thousand lines in oftava rima ; and yet, 


566 


ESPINOSA. 


[Pertop Ii. 


after all, the conclusion is abrupt, and we have an in. 
timation that more may follow.” 


27 «<Seounda Parte de Orlando,” etc., 
por Nicolas Espinosa, Zaragoza, 1555, 
4to, Anveres, 1556, 4to, etc. The Or- 
lando of Ariosto, translated by Urrea, 
was published at Lyons in 1550, folio, 
(the same edition, no doubt, which An- 
tonio gives to 1556,) and is treated with 
due severity by the curate in the scru- 
tiny of Don Quixote’s library, and by 
Clemencin in his commentary on that 
passage (Tom. I. p. 120). Among the 
other faults of this translation it omits 
several passages in the original; adds 
others ; and deals much too freely with 
thewhole. Ex. gr. in Canto III. forty- 
five stanzas are cut down to two, and 
the canto itself made part of the sec- 
ond, so that there is a change in the 
numbering of the cantos after this to 
the last, which Urrea makes the forty- 
fifth, while Ariosto has forty-six. In 
Canto XXIV. he does not translate Ari- 
osto’s disparagement of the famous gift 
of Constantine to the Pope, out of fear, 
I suppose, of the Inquisition. In Can- 
to XXXYV. he adds seventy stanzas in 
honor of Spain. And so on. 

Gayangos notes two other translations 
of the Orlando, one in prose by Diego 
Vazquez de Contreras in 1585, and the 
other in verse, indeed, but in verse 
which, from his account of it, is much 
like prose, by Hernando de Alcozer, 
and which was published in 1550, prob- 
ably, I think, after Urrea’s. 

Not connected with the preceding 
poems by their subjects, but, from their 
general style of versification, belonging 
to the same class, are several serious 


ginning with the marriage of Altello, 
Prince of Spain, to Aurelia, daughter of 
Aurelius the Emperor of Constantino- 
ple, and extends through forty books 
and above four thousand five hundred 
octave stanzas of extravagant and unin- 
teresting adventures. In the Prologo 
the author calls it ‘‘ pequeiuela obra,” 
and at the end promises a continuation, 
which, happily, never appeared. The 
language is good, —almost as good as 
he boasts it to be, when he says : — 
Canto blandos versos que corriendo 
Van con pie delicado e sonoroso. 

The next is the ‘‘Florando de Cas- 
tilla, Lauro de Cavalleros,” ec., (Alcala, 
1588, 4to, ff. 168,) in ottava rima. It! 
is by the Licentiate Hieronymo de Hu- 
erta, afterwards physician to Philip IV., 
and author of several works noted by 
Antonio. The Florando is an account 
of a Spanish cavalier descended from 
Hercules, who, after giving himself up 
to an effeminate and luxurious life, is 
roused by his great ancestor, in a dream, 
to become a wandering knight so fair ; 
and after travelling through many coun- 
tries and encountering the usual num- 
ber of adventures with discourteous 
adversaries, giants, and enchanters, 
achieves his destiny, and the whole 
ends as might have been foreseen, 
though somewhat abruptly. Gayangos 
praises it for its poetry, and pronounces 
it ‘‘obra no vulgar.” Antonio says it 
was translated into Latin, but does not 
say the Latin version was printed. (N. 
Ant., Bib. Nov., Tom. I. p. 587, and 
Mayans y Siscar, Cartas de Varios Au-. 


rhymed books of chivalry, three of 
which should be slightly noticed. 
Of the first I have seen only a single 


tores, Tom. II., 1773, p. 36.) It isi 
reprinted in the Biblioteca de Autores | 
Espafioles, (Tom. XXXVI., 1855,) andy 


copy. I found it in the Imperial Li- 
brary at Vienna, which is uncommonly 
rich in old Spanish books, chiefly in 
consequence of an acquisition made be- 
tween 1670 and 1675 of a curious and 
valuable collection which seemed to 
have been made in Madrid by an ama- 
teur—the Marques de Cabrega — who 
lived in the period preceding. The 
- poem to which I refer is entitled ‘‘ Li- 
bro primero de los famosos hechos del 
Principe Celidon de Iberia por Gongalo 
,, Gomez de Luque, natural de la Ciudad 
| de Cordoba.” (Alcala, 1583, 4to.) It 
‘is a wild tale of chivalry in verse, be- 


is in thirteen cantos, making about four 
hundred octave stanzas. It seems to 
me to be a poor romance, in imitation 
of Ariosto. In the Preface to the re- 
print of 1855, Huerta is said to have 
been born in 1573; but as the aprova- 
cion of Ercilla to the Florando is dated 
June 27, 1587, making him only four- 
teen years old when his privilegio was 
granted, I suppose there is some mis- 
take in the matter. Huerta wrote sev- 
eral other works, but the one to which 
his name may best be trusted is, I 
think, a translation of Pliny’s Natural 
History, of which parts were published 


Cuar. XXVII.] MARTIN DE BOLEA AND OTHERS. 567 


* But no more came from the pen of Espinosa. * 481 
Others, however, continued the same series of 
fictions, if they did not take up the thread where he 
left it. An Aragonese nobleman, Martin de Bolea, 
wrote an “Orlando Enamorado” ;— and Garrido de 
Villena of Alcala, who, in 1577, had made known to his 
countrymen the “Orlando Innamorato” of Boiardo, in 
a Spanish dress, published, six years afterwards, 
his “ Battle of Roncesvalles” ; *a poem which * 482 


was followed, in 1585, by one of Agustin Alonso, 


on substantially the same subject. 


But all of them are 


now neglected or forgotten.” 


in 1599 and 1603; but I have a copy 
of the whole printed in 1624 and 1629, 
in two volumes, folio. It is written in 
vigorous Spanish, and was no doubt an 
important contribution to the intel- 
lectual resources of his country ; but 
the illustrations that accompany it in 
the form of miserable woodcuts show 
how imperfect was the state of science 
at that time in Spain, and how much 
it needed more than Pliny or Huerta 
could do for it. 

The third of these poetical Romances 
is not unlike the two others. At any 
rate it is quite as grave and quite as 
extravagant. It is entitled ‘‘ Genealo- 
gia de la Toledana discreta,” (Alcala, 
1604,) and is only the First Part, as 
announced by its author, Eugenio Mar- 
tinez, who dedicates it to his native 
city, Toledo. It begins in England, 
which, he says, is ‘‘poblada de Espa- 
fola y Griega gente,” and his purpose, 
announced in his Prologo, is ‘‘to give 
an account of all the illustrious houses 
in Spain.” But he fills thirty - four 
books and about three thousand octave 
stanzas with a congeries and confusion 
of stories and adventures, which concern 
only imaginary personages, and have no 
relation to any known families either in 
Spain or in any other country of the 
world. The poem gets its name from 
a Toledan princess, Sacridea, who is 
found in England in the third canto, 
calling for help from all true cavaliers 
against her cousin, who seeks to usurp 
her royal rights ; but she is not more 
prominent afterwards than several of 
the other figures, who appear and dis- 


appear, it is not easy to tell why. The 
style is better, I think, than that of 
the ‘‘Celidon de Iberia,’ —the verse 
flowing and the language pure, — and’ 
it seems to have enjoyed some success, 
for I tind editions noted as of 1599 and 
1608. But I have never seen any copy 
of it, except my own, which is of 1604. 
How long the ‘‘Toledana discreta” 
would have been, if the author had 
continued it as he begins, it is impossi- 
ble to conjecture, for, as he does not 
reach his subject in this First Part, he 
might have gone on in the same way 
forever, and found no end in wandering 
mazes lost. He, however, may have 
stopped, as Antonio intimates, from 
taking a religious turn ; for he printed 
a poem entitled ‘*‘ Vida y Martirio de 
Santa Inez,” Alcald, 1592, written after 
the Toledana. 

28 <¢ Orlando Enamorado de Don Mar- 
tin de Bolea y Castro,” Lerida, 1578 ;— 
‘Orlando Determinado, en Octava Ri- 
ma,” Zaragoza, 1578. (Latassa, Bib. 
Nov., Tom. II. p. 54, and Gayangos 
ad loc.) —The ‘‘ Orlando Enamorado ” 
of Boiardo is by Francisco Garrido de 
Villena, 1577, and the ‘‘ Verdadero Su- 
ceso de la Batalla de Roncesvalles” is 
by the same, 1583. (Antonio, Bib. 
Nov., Tom. I. p. 428.) — ‘‘ Historia de 
las Hazaiias y Hechos del Invencible 
Cavallero Bernardo del Carpio, por 
Agustin Alonso,” Toledo, 1585.  Pel- 
licer (Don Quixote, Tom. I. p. 58, 
note) says he had seen one copy of 
this book, and Clemencin says he never 
saw any. —I have never met with either 
of those referred to in this note. 


568 LUIS BARAHONA DE SOTO. [Perron II. 

Not so the “ Angélica ” of Luis Barahona de Soto, or, 
as it is commonly called, “The Tears of Angelica.” 
The first twelve cantos were published in 1586, and 
received by the men of letters of that age with an ex- 
traordinary applause, which has continued to be echoed 
and re-echoed down to our own times. Its author was 
a physician in an obscure village near Seville, but he 
was knotwn as a poet throughout Spain, and praised 
alike by Diego de Mendoza, Silvestre, Herrera, Cetina, 
Mesa, Lope de Vega, and Cervantes, — the last of whom 
makes the curate hasten to save “The Tears of An- 
gelica” from the flames, when Don Quixote’s library 
was carried to the court-yard, crying out, “Truly, I 
should shed tears myself, if such a book had been 
burnt; for its author was one of the most famous 
poets, not only of Spain, but of the whole world.” All 
this admiration, however, was extravagant; and in 
Cervantes, who more than once steps aside from the 
subject on which he happens to be engaged to praise 
Soto, it seems to have been the result of a sincere 
personal friendship. 

The truth is, that the Angelica, although so much 
praised, was never finished or reprinted, and is now 
rarely seen and more rarely read. It is a continuation 
of the “Orlando Furioso,” and relates the story of the 
heroine after her marriage, down to the time when she 
recovers her kingdom of Cathay, which had been vio- 
lently wrested from her by a rival queen. It is ex- 
travagant in its adventures, and awkward in its machin- 
ery, especially in whatever relates to Demogorgon and 

the agencies under his control. But its chief 
*483 fault is its dulness. Its * whole movement is as 
far as possible unlike the brilliant life and gay- 
ety of its great prototype; and, as if to add to the 


Cuar. XXVII.] BALBUENA, THE BERNARDO. 569 


wearisomeness of its uninteresting characters and lan- 
guid style, one of De Soto’s friends has added to each 
canto a prose explanation of its imagined moral mean- 
ings and tendency, which, in a great majority of cases, 
it seems impossible should have been in the author’s 
mind when he wrote the poem.” 

Of the still more extravagant continuation of the 
“ Orlando” by Lope de Vega, we have already spoken ; 
and of the fragment on the same subject by Quevedo, 
it is not necessary to speak at all. But the “Ber- 
nardo” of Balbuena, which belongs to the same period, 
must not be overlooked. It is one of the two or three 
favored poems of its class in the language; written in 
the fervor of the author’s youth, and published in 1624, 
when his age and ecclesiastical honors made him doubt 
whether his dignity would permit him any longer to 
claim it as his own. 

It is on the constantly recurring subject of Bernardo 
del Carpio; but it takes from the old traditions only 
the slight outline of that hero’s history, and then fills 
up the space between his first presentation at the court 
of his uncle, Alfonso the Chaste, and the death of Ro- 
land at Roncesvalles, with enchantments and giants, 
travels through the air and over the sea, in countries 
known and in countries impossible, amidst adventures 
as wild as the fancies of Ariosto, and more akin to his 
free and joyous spirit than anything else of the sort in 
the language. Many of the descriptions are rich and 


29 «* Primera Parte de la Angélica de 
Luis Barahona de Soto,” Granada, 1586, 
4to. My copy contains a MS. license to 
reprint fromit, dated July 15, 1805; but, 
like many other projects of the sort in 
relation to old Spanish literature, this 
one was not carried through. A notice 
of De Soto is to be found in Sedano 
(Parnaso, Tom. II. p. xxxi) ; but the 
pleasantest idea of him and of his agree- 


able social relations is to be gathered 
from a poetical epistle to him by Chris- 
téval de Mesa (Rimas, 1611, f. 200) ; — 
from several poems in Silvestre (ed. 1599, 
ff. 325, 333, 334) ;— and from the no- 
tices of him by Cervantes in his ‘‘ Gala- 
tea,” and in the Don Quixote, (Parte I. 
c. 6, and Parte II. c. 1,) together with 
the facts collected in the two last places 
by the commentators. 


4 


570 BALBUENA, THE BERNARDO. [Perron II. 


beautiful ; worthy of the author of “The Age of Gold” 

and “'The Grandeur of Mexico.” Some of the 
*484 episodes are * full of interest in themselves, and 

happy in their position. Its general structure is 
suited to the rules of its class, —if rules there be for 
such a poem as the “ Orlando Furioso.”” And the ver- 
sification is almost always good ;— easy where facility 
is required, and grave or solemn, as the subject changes 
and becomes more lofty. But it has one capital defect. 
It is fatally long, — thrice as long as the Iliad. There 
seems, in truth, as we read on, no end to its episodes, 
which are involved in each other till we entirely lose 
the thread that connects them; ‘and as for its crowds 
of characters, they come like shadows, and so depart, 
leaving often no trace behind them, except a most in- 
distinct recollection of their wild adventures.” 


30 <«] Bernardo, Poema Herdico del in the second volume of his ‘‘ Poesias 
Doctor Don Bernardo de Balbuena,” Selectas, Musa Epica,” with skill and 
Madrid, 1624, 4to, and 1808, 3 tom. judgment, to less than one third of that 
8vo, containing about forty-five thou- length. 
sand lines, but abridged by Quintana, 


* CHARTER OxX X VET. * 485 


NARRATIVE POEMS ON SUBJECTS FROM CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY. —BOSCAN, MEN- 
DOZA, SILVESTRE, MONTEMAYOR, VILLEGAS, PEREZ, CEPEDA, GONGORA, VIL- 
LAMEDIANA, PANTALEON, AND OTHERS. — NARRATIVE POEMS ON MISCELLA- 
NEOUS SUBJECTS. — SALAS, SILVEIRA, ZARATE. — MOCK-HEROIC NARRATIVE 
POEMS. —ALDANA, CHRESPO, VILLAVICIOSA AND HIS MOSQUEA.— SERIOUS 
HISTORICAL POEMS. — CORTEREAL, RUFO, VEZILLA CASTELLANOS AND OTH- 
ERS, MESA, CUEVA, EL PINCIANO, MOSQUERA, VASCONCELLOS, FERREIRA, 
FIGUEROA, ESQUILACHE. — FAILURE OF NARRATIVE AND HEROIC POETRY 
ON NATIONAL SUBJECTS. 


THERE was little tendency in Spain, during the six- 
teenth and seventeenth centuries, to take subjects for 
the long narrative and heroic poems that were so char- 
acteristic of the country from ancient history or fable. 
Shorter and in general more interesting tales, imbued 
with the old national spirit, were, however, early at- 
tempted out of classical materials. The “Leander” of 
Boscan, a gentle and pleasmg poem, in about three 
thousand lines of blank verse, is to be dated as early 
as 1540, and is one of them. Diego de Mendoza, Bos- 
can’s friend, followed, with his “ Adonis, Hippomenes, 
and Atalanta,” but in the Italian octave stanza, and with 
less success. Silvestre’s “‘ Daphne and Apollo” and his 
“ Pyramus and Thisbe,” both of them written in the 
old Castilian verse, are of the same period and more at- 
tractive, but they were unfortunate in their effects, 
if they provoked the poems on “ Pyramus and Thisbe ” 
by Montemayor and by Antonio Villegas, or that on 
“Daphne” by Perez, in the second book of his con- 
tinuation of the “ Diana.” * 


1 The story of ‘‘ Leander” fillsa large Garcilasso’s Works in the original edi- 
part of the third book of Boscan and tion of 1543. — Diego de Mendoza’s 


* 


NARRATIVE CLASSICAL POEMS. 


’ 


D572 


[Preriop II. 


*486  *The more formal effort of Romero de Cepeda 
on “ The Destruction of Troy,” published in 1582, 
is not better than the rest. It has, however, the merit 
of being written more in the old national tone than 
almost anything of the kind ; for it is in the ancient 
stanza of ten short lines, and has a fluency and facility 
that make it sound sometimes like the elder ballad 
poetry. But it extends to ten cantos, and is, after all, 
the story to which we have always been accustomed, 
except that it makes Aineas — against whom the Span- 
ish poets and chroniclers seem to have entertained a 
thorough ill-will — a traitor to his country and an 


accomplice in its ruin? 


** Adonis,” which is about half as long, 
and on which the old statesman is said 
to have valued himself very much, is in 
his Works, 1610, pp. 48-65. — Silves- 
tre’s poems, mentioned in the text, with 
two others, something like them, make 
up the whole of the second book of his 
Works, 1599. — Montemayor’s ‘‘ Pyra- 
mus,” in the short ten-line stanzas, is 
at the end of the ‘‘ Diana,” in the edi- 
tion of 1614. — The ‘‘ Pyramus ”’ of Ant. 
de Villegas is in his ‘‘Inventario,” 1577, 
and is in ¢erza rima, which, like the 
other Italian measures attempted by 
him, he manages awkwardly. — The 
*‘Daphne” of Perez is in various meas- 
ures, and better deserves reading in old 
Bart. Yong’s version of it than it does 
in the original. —I might have added 
to the foregoing the ‘‘Pyramus and 
Thisbe” of Castillejo, (Obras, 1598, ff. 
68, etc.,) pleasantly written in the old 
Castilian short verse, when he was 
twenty-eight years old, and living in 
Germany ; but it is so much a transla- 
tion from Ovid, that it hardly belongs 
here. : 

2 Obras de Romero de Cepeda, Se- 
villa, 1582, 4to. The poem alluded to 
is entitled ‘‘ El Infelice Robo de Elena 
Reyna de Esparta por Paris, Infante 
Troyano, del qual sucedid la Sangri- 
enta Destruycion de Troya.” It be- 
gins ab ovo Lede, and, going through 
about two thousand lines, ends with 
the death of six hundred thousand Tro- 
jans. The shorter poems in the volume 


are sometimes agreeable. The next year, 
1583, he published, partly in prose and 
partly in ballad verse, which is not al- 
ways bad, a small popular book entitled 
‘*La antigua, memorable y sangrienta 
destruycion de Troya, recopilada de di- 
versos autores,” (Toledo, 1583, 12mo, 
150 ff.,) but Lucas Gracian certified to 
its harmlessness in 1581, and the colo- 
phon is dated 1584 ;—so that it was 
probably written before his ‘‘ Infelice 
Robo de Helena,” and published after 
it. It is poor enough. From some of 
the descriptions of Helen, Ajax, etc., 
one might suppose that Cepeda was 
their personal acquaintance, and was 
drawing from the life. But this is not 
worse than Berosus and Dares Phrygius, 
in whom he confides implicitly, relying 
on them as sufficient authorities to con- 
tradict Homer. 

The poem of Manuel de Gallegos, en- 
titled ‘‘ Gigantomachia,” and published 
at Lisbon, 1628, 4to, is also, like that 
of Cepeda, on a classical subject, being 
devoted to the war of the Giants against 
the Gods. Its author was a Portuguese, 
who lived many years at Madrid in in- 
timacy with Lope de Vega, and wrote 
occasionally for the Spanish stage, but 
returned at last to his native country, 
and died there in 1665. His ‘‘ Gigan- 
tomachia,” in about three hundred and . 
forty octave stanzas, divided into five 
short books, is written, for the period 
when it appeared, in a pure style, but 
is a very dull poem. 


Cuar. XXVIII] NARRATIVE CLASSICAL POEMS. O73 


*But with the appearance of Gongora, sim- * 487 
plicity such as Cepeda’s ceased in this class of 
poems almost entirely. Nothing, indeed, was more 
characteristic of the extravagance in which this great 
poetical heresiarch indulged himself than his mon- 
strous narrative poem, — half jesting, half serious, and. 
wholly absurd, — which he called “The Fable of Poly- 
phemus”’; and nothing became more characteristic of 
his school than the similar poems in imitation of the 
Polyphemus which commonly passed under the desig- 
nation he gave them, — that of Fabudas. Such were 
the “Phaeton,” the “Daphne,” and the “ Europa” of 
his great admirer, Count Villamediana. Such were 
several poems by Pantaleon, and, among them, his 
“Fabula de Eco,’ which he dedicated to Gongora. 
Such were Moncayo’s “ Atalanta,’ a long heroic poem 
in twelve cantos, published as a separate work; and 
his “ Venus and Adonis,” found among his miscellanies. 
And such, too, were Villalpando’s “ Love Enamored, or 
Cupid and Psyche”; and several more of the same 
class and with the same name ; —all worthless, and all 
published between the time when Gongora appeared 
and the end of the century.® 


Gayangos mentions an earlier ‘‘ Gi- 
gantomachia”’ by Francisco de Sando- 
.val, (Zaragoza, 1630,) and adds, that he 
published a volume of poems, entitled 
** Rasgos de Ocio,” 8vo, without date. 

A narrative poem in a hundred and 
thirty-four octave stanzas, by Doctor 
Antonio Gual, was published at Na- 
ples, apparently in 1637, to win the 
favor of the Duchess of Medina de las 
Torres, wife of the Viceroy. I have a 
copy of it, but can find no notice of it 
or of its author. It is an extravagant 
and incredible love-story, sometimes 
gracefully told, — sometimes with such 
affectations as were common during the 
reign of Gongorism ;— but, on the 
whole, it is better than the average 
of its class. 


3 These poems are all to be found in 
the works of their respective authors, 
elsewhere referred to, except two. The 
first is the ‘‘ Atalanta y Hipomenes,” 
by Moncayo, Marques de San Felice, 
(Zaragoza, 1656, 4to,) in octave stanzas, 
about eight thousand lines long, in which 
he manages to introduce much of the 
history of Aragon, his native country ; 
a general account of its men of letters, 
who were his contemporaries ; and, in 
canto fifth, all the Aragonese ladies he 
admired, whose number is not small. 
The other poem is the ‘‘ Amor Enamo- 
rado,” which Jacinto de Villalpando 
published (Zaragoca, 1655, 12mo) un- 
der the name of ‘‘ Fabio Clymente”’ ; 
and which, like the last, is in octave 
stanzas, but only about half as long. 


HEROIC POEMS. — SALAS. 


Or 


74 


[Perron II. 


*488  *Of heroic poems on miscellaneous subjects, 
a few were produced during the same period, 
but none of value. The first that needs to be men- 
tioned is that of Yague de Salas, on “The Lovers of 
Teruel,” published in 1616, and preceded by an ex- 
traordinary array of laudatory verses, among which are 
sonnets by Lope de Vega and Cervantes. It is on the 
tragical fate of two young and faithful lovers, who, 
after the most cruel trials, died at almost the same 
moment, victims of their passion for each other, — 
the story on which, as we have already noticed, Mon- 
talvan founded one of his best dramas. Salas calls his 
poem a tragic epic, and it consists of twenty-six long 
cantos, comprehending not only the sad tale of the 
lovers themselves, which really ends in the seven- 
teenth canto, but a large part of the history of the 
kingdom of Aragon and the whole history of the little 
town of Teruel. He declares his story to be absolutely 
authentic ; and in the Preface he appeals for the truth 
of his assertion to the traditions of Teruel, of whose 
municipality he had formerly been syndic and was 
then secretary. 

But his statements were early called in question, 


See, also, Latassa, Bib. Nueva, Tom. 
III. p. 272. To these should be add- 
ed the ‘‘ Fdbula de Cupido y Psyches,” 
by Don Gabriel de Henao Monxazaz, 
(Zaragoza, 1620, 12mo, pp. 102,) not 
better than its fellows; and the Fabu- 
Jas of Theseus and Ariadne, and of Hip- 
pomenes and Atalanta, by Miguel Co- 
lodrero de Villalobos, a young man of 
Baena, who published at Cordoba, in 
1629, a small volume of poems, chiefly 
sonnets, epigrams, etc., which was suc- 
ceeded in 1642 by another, called af- 
fectedly ‘*Golosinas de Ingenios,” or 
Sweetmeats for Wits. — He admired and 
followed Géngora, and addressed one of 
his poems to him. 

Gayangos mentions several other po- 


ems of the same sort, such as ‘‘ La Luna 
y Endimion,” by Marcelo Diaz Calle- 
cerrada, ‘‘La Atalanta,” by Cespedes, 
‘‘ Jupiter y Europa,” by Jusepe La- 
porta, etc. ; but none seems to be worth 
more than a passing notice. An attempt 
was made in the eighteenth century to 
revive something like this style of nar- 
rative poetry, or a parody on it, in ‘‘ El 
Fabulero por Francisco Nieto Molina,” 
(Madrid, 1764, 4to,) where we have 
jesting versions of the stories of Poly- 
phemus, Arethusa, Leander, etc., often 
written in a better style than was com- 
mon in his time; but like his ‘‘ Perro- 
maquia,” published in 1765, they are 
of small value. 


Cuap, XXVIII] SALAS. 575 


and, to sustain them, he produced, in 1619, the copy 
of a paper which he professed to have found in the 
archives of Teruel, and which contains, under the date 
of 1217, a full account of the two lovers, with a notice 
of the discovery and reinterment of their unchanged 
bodies in the church of San Pedro, in 1555. This 
seems to have quieted the doubts that had been raised ; 
and for a long time afterwards, poets and tragic writers 
resorted freely to a story so truly Spanish in its union 
of love and religion, as if its authenticity were no 
longer questionable. But since 1806, when the facts 
and documents in relation to it were collected and 
published, there seems no reasonable doubt that the 
whole is a fiction, founded on a tradition already used 
by Artieda in a dull drama, and still floating 

about at the time when Salas lived, to * which, * 489 
when urged by his sceptical neighbors, he gave 

a distinct form. But the popular faith was too well 
settled to be disturbed by antiquarian investigations, 
and the remains of the lovers of Teruel in the cloisters 
of Saint Peter are still visited by faithful and devout 
hearts, who look upon them with sincere awe, as mys- 
terious witnesses left there by Heaven, that they may 
testify, through all generations, to the truth and beauty 
of a love stronger than the grave. 


* **Tios Amantes de Teruel, Epopeya 
Tragica, con la Restauracion de Espafia 
por la Parte de Sobrarbe y Conquista 
del Reino de Valencia, por Juan Yague 
de Salas,” Valencia, 1616, 12mo. The 
latter part of it is much occupied with 
a certain Friar John and a certain Friar 
Peter, who were great saints in Teruel, 
and with the conquest of Valencia by 
Don Jaume of Aragon. The poetry of 
the whole, it is not necessary to add, is 
naught. The antiquarian investigation 
of the truth of the story of the lovers is 
in a modest pamphlet entitled ‘‘ Noticias 
Histdricas sobre los Amantes de Teruel, 


por Don Isidro de Antillon” (Madrid, 
1806, 18mo) ;—a respectable Professor 
of History in the College of the Nobles 
at Madrid. (Latassa, Bib. Nueva, 
Tom. VI. p. 123.) It leaves no reason- 
able doubt about the forgery of Salas, 
which, moreover, is done very clumsily. 
Ford, in his admirable ‘‘ Hand-Book of 
Spain,” (London, 1845, 8vo, p. 874,) 
implies that the tomb of the lovers is 
still much visited. It stands now in 
the cloisters of St. Peter, whither, in 
1709, in consequence of alterations in 
the church, their bodies were removed ; 
—much decayed, says Antillon, not- 


576 


SILVEIRA. — ZARATE. [Puriop Il. 
The attempt of Lope de Vega, in his “ Jerusalem 
Conquered,’ to rival Tasso, turned the thoughts of 
other ambitious poets in the same direction, and the 
quick result was two so-called epics that are not quite 
forgotten. The first 1s the “Macabeo” of Silveira, a 
Portuguese, who, after living long at the court of Spain, 
accompanied the head of the great house of the Guz- 
mans when that nobleman was made viceroy of Naples, 
and published there, in 1638, this poem, to the com- 
position of which he had given twenty-two years. 
The subject is the restoration of Jerusalem by Judas 
Maccabzeus, — the same which Tasso had at one time 
chosen for his own epic. But Silveira had not the 
genius of Tasso. He has, it is true, succeeded in filling 
twenty cantos with octave stanzas, as Tasso did; but 
there the resemblance stops. The “ Macabeo,” 
* 490 besides being * written in the affected style of 
Géngora, is wanting in spirit, interest, and po- 

etry throughout.’ 

The other contemporary poem of the same class is 
better, but does not rise to the dignity of success. It 
is by Zarate, a poet long attached to Rodrigo Calderon, 
the adventurer who, under the title of Marques de Siete 
Iglesias, rose to the first places in the state in the time 
of Philip the Third, and employed Zarate as one of his 
secretaries. Zarate, however, was gentle and wise, and, 
having occupied himself much with poetry in the days 


withstanding the claim set up that they 
are imperishable. The story of the 
lovers of Teruel has often been resorted 
to, and, among others in our own time, 
by Juan Eugenio Harzenbusch, in his 
drama, ‘‘ Los Amantes de Teruel,” and 
by an anonymous author in a tale with 
the same title, that appeared at Va- 
lencia, 1838, 2 tom. 18mo. In the 
Preface to the last, another of the cer- 
tificates of Yague de Salas to the truth 
of the story is produced for the first 


time, but adds nothing to its probabil- 
ity. See ante, pp. 316-319. 

5 «*E]l Macabeo, Poema Herdico de 
Miguel de Silveira,” Napoles, 1638, 4to. 
Castro (Biblioteca, Tom. I. p. 626) 
makes Silveira a converted Jew, and 
Barbosa places his death in 1636 ; but 
the dedication of his ‘‘Sol Vencido,” a 
short, worthless poem, written to flatter 
the Vice-Queen of Naples, is dated 20th 
April, 1639, and was printed there that 
year. 


577 


Cuar. XXVIII.] MOCK-HEROICS. 


of his prosperity, found it a pleasant resource in the 
days of adversity. In 1648, he published “ The Dis- 
covery of the Cross,” which, if we may trust an inti- 
mation in the “ Persiles and Sigismunda” of Cervantes, 
he must have begun thirty years before, and which 
had undoubtedly been finished and licensed twenty 
years when it appeared in print. But Zarate mistook 
the nature of his subject. Instead of confining him- 
self to the pious traditions of the Empress Helena and 
the ascertained achievements of Constantine against 
Maxentius, he has filled up his canvas with an impos- 
sible and uninteresting contest between Constantine 
and an imaginary king of Persia on the banks of the 
Kuphrates, and so made out a long poem, little con- 
nected in its different parts, and, though dry and mo- 
notonous in its general tone, unequal in its execution ; 
some portions of it being simple and dignified, while 
others show a taste almost as bad as that which dis- 
figures the “Macabeo” of Silveira, and of quite the 
same sort.® 


But there was always a tendency to a spirit 
of caricature *in Spanish literature,— perhaps * 491 
owing to its inherent stateliness and dignity ; 
for these are qualities which, when carried to excess, 
almost surely provoke ridicule. At least, as we know, 
parody appeared early among the ballads, and was 
always prominent in the theatres; to say nothing of 
romantic fiction, where Don Quixote is the great 


6 «*Poema Herdico de la Invencion 
de la Cruz, por Fr. Lopez de Zarate,” 
Madrid, 1648, 4to; twenty-two cantos 
and four hundred pages of octave stan- 
zas. The infernal councils and many 
other parts show it to be an imitation 
of Tasso, The notice of his life by 
Sedano (Parnaso, Tom. VIII. p. xxiv) 


VOR, 1k 37 


is sufficient ; but that by Antonio is 
more touching, and reads like a tribute 
of personal regard. Zarate died in 
1658, above seventy years old. Sema- 
nario Pintoresco, 1845, p. 82. Cervan- 
tes praises him beyond all reason in his 
Persiles y Sigismunda, Lib. IV. cap. 
6, and elsewhere. 


578 MOCK-HEROICS. [Perron II. 


monument of its glory for all countries and for all 
ages.’ 

That the long and multitudinous narrative poems of 
Spain should call forth mock-heroics was, therefore, in 
keeping with the rest of the national character; and 
though the number of such caricatures is not large, 
they have a merit quite equal to that of their serious 
prototypes. ‘The first in the order of time seems to be 
lost. It was written by Césme de Aldana, who, in the 
latter part of the sixteenth century, was attached to 
the Grand Constable Velasco, when he was sent to 
govern Miian. In his capacity of poet, Aldana un- 
happily plied his master with flattery and sonnets, till 
one day the Constable fairly besought him to desist, 
and called him “an ass.” The cavalier could not draw 
his sword on his friend and patron, but the poet deter- 
mined to avenge the affront offered to his genius. He 
did so ina long poem, entitled the “ Asneida,”’ which, 
on every page, seemed to cry out to the governor, 
“You are a greater ass than Iam.” But it was hardly 
finished when the unhappy Aldana died, and the copies 
of his poem were so diligently sought for and so faith- 
fully destroyed, that it seems to be one of the few 
books we should be curious to see, which, after having 
been once printed, have entirely disappeared from the 
world. 


7 The continual parody of the gracioso 
on the hero shows what was the tendency 
of the Spanish stage in this particular. 
But there are also plays that are entire- 
ly burlesque, such as ‘‘The Death of 
Baldovinos,” at the end of Cancer’s 
Works, 1651, which is a parody on the 
old ballads and traditions respecting 
that paladin; and the ‘‘Cavallero de 
Olmedo,” a favorite play, by Francis- 
co Felix de Monteser, which is in the 
volume entitled ‘‘ Mejor Libro de las 
Mejores Comedias,” Madrid, 1658, and 


which is a parody of a play with the 
same title in the Comedias de Lope de 
Vega, Vol. XXIV., Zaragoza, 1641. 

8 Césme was editor of the poems of 
his brother, Francisco de Aldana, in 
1593. (Antonio, Bib. Nov., Tom. I. 
p.- 256.) He wrote in Italian and 
printed at Florence as early as 1578; 
but Velasco did not go as governor 
to Milan till after 1586. (Salazar, 
Dignidades, f. 131.) The only ac- 
count I have seen of the ‘‘ Asneida” 
is in Figueroa’s ‘‘ Pasagero,” 1617, f. 


Cuar, XXVIIL] THE CHRESPINA. o79 

*'The next mock-heroic has also something * 492 
mysterious about it. It is called “The Death, 
Burial, and Honors of Chrespina Marauzmana, the Cat 
of Juan Chrespo,” and was published at Paris in 1604, 
under what seems to be the pseudonyme of “Cintio 
Merctisso.”’ The first canto gives an account of Chres- 
pina’s death; the second, of the pésames or condolences 
offered to her children; and the third and last, of the 
public tributes to her memory, including the sermon 
preached at her interment. The whole is done in the 
true spirit of such a poem, — grave in form, and quaint 
and amusing in its details. Thus, when the children 
are gathered round the death-bed of their venerable 
mother, among other directions and commands, she 
tells them very solemnly : — 


Up in the concave of the tiles, and near 

That firm-set wall the north wind whistles by, 
Close to the spot the cricket chose last year, 

In a blind corner, far from every eye, 
Beneath a brick that hides the treasure dear, 

Five choice sardines in secret darkness lie ; — 
These, brethren-like, I charge you, take by shares, 
And also all the rest, to which you may be heirs. 


Moreover, you will find, in heaps piled fair, — 
Proofs of successful toil to build a name, — 
A thousand wings and legs of birds picked bare, 
And cloaks of quadrupeds, both wild and tame, 
All which your father had collected there, 
To serve as trophies of an honest fame ; — 
These keep, and count them better than all prey ; 
Nor give them, e’en for ease, or sleep, or life, away.® 


127. Its loss is probably not a great 
one, says Gayangos, if we are to judge 
by a volume of poems which he pub- 
lished at Madrid in 1591, entitled ‘‘ In- 
vectiva contra el Vulgo y su Maldi- 
cencia” ; which is full of bad taste. 
It may be found reprinted in the 
Biblioteca de Autores Espafioles, Tom. 
XXXVI., 1855. I have a copy of the 
unhappy collection of poems that pro- 
voked the Constable’s ire. It is in 


thirteen leaves, printed in Milan with- 
out date, and is entitled ‘‘ Versos de 
Césme de Aldana a su Capitan General 
y Sefior, el illustriss. y excellentiss. 
Semor Juan Fernandez Velasco, Con- 
destable de Castilla. The flattery, no 
doubt, outweighs the poetry. —It is 
not in the Biblioteca of Rivadeneyra. 
% En la concavidad del tejadillo, 


Hazia los paredones del gallego, 
Junto adonde moravya antanio el grillo, 


580 THE MOSQUEA. [Perrop II. 


*493 *It is probably a satire on some event notorious 

at the time and long since forgotten; but how- 
ever its origin may be explained, it is one of the best 
imitations extant of the Italian mock-heroics. It has, 
too, the rare merit of being short.” 

Much better known than the Chrespina is the “ Mos- 
quea,” by Villaviciosa;—a rich and fortunate eccle- 
silastic, who was born at Siguenza in 1589, and died at 
Cuenca in 1658. The Mosquea, which is the war of 
the flies and the ants, was printed in 1615; but though 
the author lived so long afterwards, he left nothing else 
to mark the genius of which this poem gives unques- 
tionable proof. It is, as may be imagined, an imitation 
of the “ Batrachomyomachia,’ attributed to Homer, and 
the storm in the third canto is taken, with some mi- 
nuteness in the spirit of its parody, from the storm in 
the first book of the Auneid. Still the Mosquea is as 
original as the nature of such a poem requires it to be. 
It has, besides, a simple and well-constructed fable ; 
and notwithstanding it is protracted to twelve cantos, 
the curiosity of the reader is sustained to the last. 

A war breaks out in the midst of the festivities of a 
tournament in the capital city of the flies, which the 
false ants had chosen as a moment when they could ad- 
vantageously interrupt the peace that had long sub- 
sisted between them and their ancient enemies. The 


En un rincon secreto, oscuro y ciego, 
Escondidas debaxo de un ladrillo, 

Estan cinco sardinas, lo que os ruego 
Como hermanos partays, y seays hermanos 
En quanto mas viniere 4 vuestras manos. 


Hallareys, item mas, amontonadas, 

De gloria y fama prosperos deseos, 

Alas y patas de mil aves tragadas, 

De quadrupedes pieles y manteos, 

Que vuestro padre alli dexo allegadas 

Por victoriosas sefas y tropheos ; 

Estas tened en mas que la comida, 

Quw’ el descanso, qu’ el suefio, y que la vida. - 


p. 14. 
10 «*La Muerte, Entierro y Honras 


de Chrespina Marauzmana, Gata de 
Juan Chrespo, en tres cantos de oc- 
tava rima, intitulados la Gaticida, com- 
puesta por Cintio Merctisso, Espaiiol, 
Paris, por Nicolo Molinero,” 1604, 
12mo, pp. 52. I know nothing of 
the poem or its author, except what 
is to be found in this volume, of which 
I have never met even with a biblio- 
graphical notice, and of which I have 
seen only one copy, — that belonging | 
to my friend Don Pascual de Gayangos, 
of Madrid. 


Cuar. XXVIII] HISTORICAL POEMS. 581 


heathen gods are introduced, as they are in the Iliad, 
— the other insects become allies in the great quarrel, 
after the manner of all heroic poems, — the neighbor- 
ing chiefs come in, — there is an Achilles on one side, 
and an Adneas on the other, — the characters of the 
principal personages are skilfully drawn and sharply 
distinguished, — and the catastrophe is a tre- 
mendous battle, fillmg the last two *cantos,in * 494 
which the flies are defeated and their brilliant 
leader made the victim of his own rashness. The faults 
of the poem are its pedantry and length. Its merits 
are the richness and variety of its poetical conceptions, 
the ingenious delicacy with which the minutest cir- 
cumstances in the condition of its msect heroes are 
described, and the air of reality, which, notwithstand- 
ing the secret satire that is never entirely absent, is 
given to the whole by the seeming earnestness of its 
tone. It ends, precisely where it should, with the ex- 
piring breath of the principal hero.” 

No ‘other mock-heroic poem followed that of Villa- 
viciosa during this period, except “The War of the 
Cats,’ by Lope de Vega, who, in his ambition for uni- 
versal conquest, seized on this, as he did on every other 
department of the national literature. But the “ Gato- 
machia,” which is one of the very best of his efforts, 
has already been noticed. We turn, therefore, again 
to the true heroic poems, devoted to national subjects, 
whose current flows no less amply and gravely, down 
to the middle of the seventeenth century, than it did 
when it first began, and continues through its whole 


1 The first edition of the ‘‘Mosquea” 
was printed in small 12mo at Cuenca, 
when its author was twenty-six years 
old ;—the third is Sancha’s, Madrid, 
1777, 12mo, with a life, from which it 
appears, that, besides being a faithful 
officer of the Inquisition himself, and 


making a good fortune out of it, Villa- 
viciosa exhorted his family, by his last 
will, to devote themselves in all future 
time to its holy service with grateful 
zeal, See, also, the Spanish translation 
of Sismondi, Sevilla, 8vo, Tom. I., 1841, 
p. 354. 


582 


HISTORICAL POEMS. 


[PERIop Il. 


course no less characteristic of the national genius and 
temper than we have seen it in the poems on Charles 
the Fifth and his achievements. 

The favorite hero of the next age, Don John of Aus- 
tria, son of the Emperor, was the occasion of two 
poems, with which we naturally resume the exami- 


nation of this curious series.” 


12 A vast number of tributes were 
paid by contemporary men of letters 
to Don John of Austria; but among 
them none is more curious than a Latin 
poem in two books, containing seven- 
teen or eighteen hundred hexameters, 
the work of a negro, who had been 
brought as an infant from Africa, and 
who by his learning rose to be Professor 
of Latin and Greek in the school at- 
tached to the cathedral of Granada. 
He is the same person noticed by Cer- 
vantes as “fel negro Juan Latino,” in 
a poem prefixed to the Don Quixote. 
His volume of Latin verses on the birth 
of Ferdinand, the son of Philip II., on 
Pope Pius V., on Don John of Austria, 
and on the city of Granada, making 
above a hundred and sixty pages in 
small quarto, printed at Granada in 
1573, is not only one of the rarest 
books in the world, but is one of the 
most remarkable illustrations of the in- 
tellectual faculties and possible accom- 
plishments of the African race. The 
author himself says he was brought to 
Spain from Ethiopia, and was, until 
his emancipation, a slave to the grand- 
son of the famous Gonsalvo de Cordova. 
His Latin verse is respectable, and, from 
his singular success as a scholar, he was 
commonly called Joannes Latinus, a 
sobriquet under which he is frequently 
mentioned. He was respectably mar- 
ried to a lady of Granada, who fell in 
love with him, as Eloisa did with Abe- 
lard, while he was teaching her; and 
after his death, which occurred later 
than 1578, his wife and children erect- 
ed a monument to his memory in the 
church of Sta. Ana, in that city, in- 
scribing it with an epitaph, in which 
he is styled ‘‘ Filius Athiopum, pro- 
lesque nigerrima patrum.” (Antonio, 
Bib. Nov., Tom. L. p. 716. Don Quix- 
ote, ed. Clemencin, Tom. I. p. lx, note.) 
Andreas Schottus in his ‘‘ Hispanic 
Bibliotheca sive de Academiis et Bib- 


The first of them is 


liothecis,” (1608,) speaking of the city 
of Granada, says: ‘‘ Hic Joannes La- 
tinus Aithiops, (res prodigiosa) nostra 
tempestate rhetoricam per multos annos 
publicé docuit, juventutemque instituit, 
et poema edidit in victoriam Joannis 
Austriaci navalem.” p. 29. 

There is a play entitled ‘‘ Juan Lati- 
no” by Diego Ximenez de Enciso, in 
the second volume of the ‘*‘ Comedias 
Escogidas,” (Madrid, 1652,) which gives 
a full sketch of him. In the first act 
he is a slave of the Duke of Sesa, ill 
enough treated, kicked about and cuffed. 
In the second, he is tutor to Dofia Ana 
de Carlobal, sister to an ecclesiastic of 
rank, and makes love to her through 
his Spanish verses, and in other ways 
after the Spanish fashion. In the third, 
he rises to distinction ; obtains his chair 
in the University ; and, favored by Don 
John of Austria, is enfranchiséd by the 
Duke of Sesa, who, however, manumits 
him very reluctantly, on the ground 
that it is his great glory to hold so dis- 
tinguished a man as his property. <Ad- 
dressing Don John, Juan Latino is 
made to say, (f. 57,) in the fervor of 
his gratitude : — 

Yo prometo a vuestra Altéza, 

Que he de quitar a la Fama 

Una pluma con que escriva 

Sus memorables hazaias. 

Y, como muchos poemas 

Toman nombre del que cantan, 

Liamaré Austriada mi libro, 

Pues canta Don Juan de Austria. 
This promise, of course, was made by 
the poet half a century or more after it 
had been fulfilled. 

It may not be amiss here to add, that 
another negro is celebrated in a play, 
written with skill in good Castilian, 
and claiming, at the end, to be founded 
in fact. It is called ‘‘ El Valiente Ne- 
gro en Flandes,” by Andres de Clara- 
monte, actor and playwright, and is 
found in Tom. XXXI., 1638, of the 
collection of Comedias printed at Bar- 


Cnar. XXVIIL] CORTEREAL. 083 


on *the battle of Lepanto, and was published * 495 
in 1578, the year of Don John’s untimely death. 
The author, Cortereal, was a Portuguese gentleman of 
rank and fortune, who distinguished himself as the 
commander of an expedition against the infidels on 
the coasts of Africa and Asia, in 1571, and died before 
1593; but, being tired of fame, passed the last twenty 
years of his life at Evora, and devoted himself to 
poetry and to the kindred arts of music and painting. 
It was amidst the beautiful and romantic nature that 
surrounded him during the quiet conclusion of 
his bustling * life, that he wrote three long * 496 
poems ; — two in Portuguese, which were soon 
translated into Spanish and published ; and one, origi- 
nally composed in Spanish, and entitled “The Most 
Happy Victory granted by Heaven to the Lord Don 
John of Austria, in the Gulf of Lepanto, over the 
Mighty Ottoman Armada.” It is in fifteen cantos of 
blank verse, and is dedicated to Philip the Second, who, 
contrary to his custom, acknowledged the compliment 
by a flattering letter. The poem opens with a dream 
brought to the Sultan from the infernal regions by the 
goddess of war, and inciting him to make an attack on 
the Christians; but excepting this, and the occasional 
use of similar machinery afterwards, it is merely a dull 
historical account of the war, ending with the great 
sea-fight itself, which is the subject of the last three 
cantos.” 


celona and Saragossa. The negro in etc., compuesta por Hierdnimo de Cor- 


question, however, was not, like Juan 
Latino, a native African, but was a 
slave born in Merida, and was distin- 
guished only as a soldier, serving with 
great honor under the Duke of Alva, 
and enjoying the favor of that severe 
general. 

18 «* Felicissima Victoria concedida 
del Cielo al Setior Don Juan d’ Austria, 


tereal, Cavallero Portugues,” s, 1. 1578, 
8vo, with curious woodcuts ; probably 
printed at Lisbon. (Life, in Barbosa, 
Tom. II. p. 495.) His ‘‘Suceso do Se- 
gundo Cerco de Diu,” in twenty-one 
cantos, on the siege, or rather defence, 
of Diu, in the East Indies, in 1546, was 
published in 1574, and translated into 
Spanish by the well-known poet, Pedro 


584 JUAN RUFO. 


[Periop II, 


The other contemporary poem on Don John of 
Austria was still more solemnly devoted to his mem- 
ory. It was written by Juan Gutierrez Rufo, a person 
much trusted in the government of Cordova, and ex- 
pressly sent by that city to Don John, whose service 
he seems never afterwards to have left. He was, as 
he tells us, especially charged by the prince to write 
his history, and received from him the materials for 
his task. The result, after ten years of labor, was a 
long chronicling poem called: the “ Austriada,” printed 
in 1584. It begins, in the first four cantos, with the 
rebellion of the Moors in the Alpuxarras; and then, 
after giving us the birth and education of Don John, as 

the general sent to subdue them, goes on with 
* 497 his subsequent life and adventures, * and ends, 

in the twenty-fourth canto, with the battle of 
Lepanto and the promise of a continuation. 

When it was thus far finished, which was not till 
after the death of the prince to whose glory it is dedi- 
cated, it was solemnly presented, both by the city of 
Cordova and by the Cortes of the kingdom, in separate 
letters, to Philip the Second, asking for it his especial 
favor, as for a work “ that it-seemed to them must last 
for many ages.” The king received it graciously, and 
gave the author five hundred ducats, regarding it, per- 
haps, with secret satisfaction, as a funeral monument to 
one whose life had been so brilliant that his death was 
not unwelcome. With such patronage, it soon passed 
through three editions; but it had no real merit, ex- 


de Padilla, who published his version 
in 1597. His ‘‘ Naufragio e Lastimoso 
Suceso da Perdicad de Manuel de Souza 
de Sepulveda,” etc., (Lisboa, 1594, 4to, 
ff. 206,) in seventeen cantos, was trans- 
lated into Spanish by Francisco de Con- 
treras, with the title of ‘‘ Nave Tragica 
de la India de Portugal,” 1624. This 


Manuel de Souza, who had held a dis- 
tinguished office in Portuguese India, 
and who had perished miserably by 
shipwreck near the Cape of Good Hope, 
in 1553, as he was returning home, 
was a connection of Cortereal by mar- 
riage. Dénis, Chroniques, etc., Tom. 


Ik. p.izd. 


Cuar, XXVIII] VEZILLA CASTELLANOS. 085 


cept in the skilful construction of its octave stanzas, 
and in some of its historical details, and was, therefore, 
soon forgotten.“ 

In the neighborhood of the city of Leon there are — 
or in the sixteenth century there were — three imper- 
fect Roman inscriptions cut into the living rock ; two 
of them referring to Curienus,a Spaniard, who had suc- 
cessfully resisted the Imperial armies in the reign of 
Domitian, and the third to Polma, a lady, whose mar- 
riage to her lover, Canioseco, is thus singularly re- 
corded. On these inscriptions, Vezilla Castellanos, a 
native of the territory where the persons they com- 
memorate are supposed to have lived, has constructed 
a romantic poem, in twenty-nine cantos, called “ Leon 
in Spain,” which he published in 1586. 

Its main subject, however, in the last fifteen cantos, 
is the tribute of a hundred damsels, which the usurper 
Mauregato covenanted by treaty to pay an- 


nually to the * Moors, and which, by the as- *498 
sistance of the apostle Saint James, King 
Ramiro successfully refused to pay any longer. Cas- 


tellanos, therefore, passes lightly over the long period 
intervening between the time of Domitian and that of 
the war of Pelayo, giving only a few sketches from its 
Christian history, and then, in the twenty-ninth canto, 
brings to a conclusion so much of his poem as relates 
to the Moorish tribute, without, however, reaching the 


14 <*T.q Austriada de Juan Rufo, Ju- 
rado de la Ciudad de Cordova,” Ma- 


ance. (Baltasar Porrefio, Dichos y He- 
chos de Philipe II., Bruselas, 1666, 
The best of Rufo’s works 


drid, 1584, 12mo, ff. 447. There are 
editions of 1585, 1586, and 1587, and 
it is extravagantly praised by Cervan- 
tes, in a prefatory sonnet, and in the 
scrutiny of Don Quixote’s library. Ru- 
fo, when, on some occasion, he was to 
be presented to Philip II., said he had 
prepared himself fully for the recep- 
tion, but lost all presence of mind, from 
the severity of that monarch’s appear- 


12mo, p. 39.) 
is his Letter to his young Son, at the 
end of his ‘‘ Apotegmas,” already no- 
ticed ; — the same son, Luis, who after- 
wards became a distinguished painter at 
Rome. The ‘‘ Austriada”’ is reprinted, 
with a good prefatory notice of the au- 
thor, by Don Cayetano Rosell, in Vol. 
XXIX. of the Biblioteca of Rivadeney- 
ra, 1854. 


586 CASTELLANOS. [Perron II. 


VEZILLA 
ultimate limit he had originally proposed to himself. 
But it is long enough. Some parts of the Roman fic- 
tion are pleasing, but the rest of the poem shows that 
Castellanos is only what he calls himself in the Preface, 
— “a modest poetical historian, or historical poet ; an 
imitator and apprentice of those who have employed 
poetry to record such memorable things as kindle the 
minds of men and raise them to a Christian and devout 
reverence for the saints, to an honorable exercise of 
arms, to the defence of God’s holy law, and to the loyal 
service of the king.” ” If his poem have any subject, 
it is the history of the city of Leon. 

In the course of the next four years after the ap- 
pearance of this rhymed chronicle of Leon, we find no 
less than three other long poems connected with the 
national history: one by Miguel Giner, on the siege of 
Antwerp by Alexander Farnese, who succeeded the un- 
fortunate Don John of Austria as generalissimo of 
Philip the Second in the war of the Netherlands ; — 
another, in twenty-one cantos, by Edward or Duarte 
Diaz, a Portuguese, on the taking of Granada by the 
Catholic sovereigns;— and the third by Lorenzo de 
Zamora, on the history of Saguntum and of its siege by 
Hannibal, in which, preserving the outline of that early 
story so far as it was well settled, he has wildly mixed 

up love-scenes, tournaments, and adventures, 
*499 suited only to the age of *chivalry. Taken 
together, they show how strong was the passion 


15 «Primera y Segunda Parte del 
Leon de Espaia, por Pedro de la Ve- 
zilla Castellanos,” Salamanca, 1586, 
12mo, ff. 369. The story of the gross 
tribute of the damsels has probably 
some foundation in fact ; one proof of 
which is, that the old General Chronicle 
(Parte III. c. 8) seems a little unwilling 
to tell a tale so discreditable to Spain. 


Mariana admits it, and Lobera, in his 
‘‘ Historia de las Grandezas, ec., de 
Leon,” (Valladolid, 1596, 4to, Parte 
II. c. 24,) gives it in full, as unques- 
tionable. Leon is still often called 
Leon de Espana, as it is in the poem 
of Castellanos, to distinguish it from 
Lyons in France, Leon de Francia. 


Crap. XXVIII.J CHRISTOVAL DE MESA. 587 


for narrative verse in Spain, where, in so short a time, 
it produced three such poems.” 

To a similar result we should arrive from the single 
example of Christoval de Mesa, who, between 1594 and 
1612, published three more national heroic poems ; — 
the first on the tradition, that the body of Saint James, 
after his martyrdom at Jerusalem, was miraculously 
carried to Spain and deposited at Compostella, where 
that saint has ever since been worshipped as the 
especial patron of the whole kingdom ; — the second 
on Pelayo and the recovery of Spain from the Moors 
down to the battle of Covadonga;—and the third on 
the battle of Tolosa, which broke the power of Moham- 
medanism and made sure the emancipation of the whole 
Peninsula. All three, as well as Mesa’s elaborate trans- 
lations of the Adneid and Georgics, which followed 
them, are written in offava rima, and all three are dedi- 
cated to Philip the Third. 

Of their author we know little, and that little is told 
chiefly by himself in his pleasant poetical epistles, and 
especially in two addressed to the Count of Lemos and 
one to the Count de Castro. From these we learn, 
that, in his youth, he was addicted to the study of 
Fernando de Herrera and Luis de Soto, as well as to 
the teachings of Sanchez, the first Spanish scholar of 


16 “¢Sitio y Toma de Amberes, por 
Miguel Giner,” Zaragoza, 1587, 8vo. — 
‘La Conquista que hicieron los Reyes 
Catolicos en Granada, por Edoardo Di- 
az,” 1590, 8vo, ff. 286, — a chronicle 
rather than a poem, in twenty-one 
books, beginning with the king of 
Granada’s breach of faith by taking 
Zahara, and ending with the adventure 
and challenge of Garcilasso de la Vega 
and the fall of Granada (Barbosa, Tom. 
I. p. 730) ;—besides which, Diaz, who 
was long a soldier in the Spanish ser- 
vice, and wrote good Castilian, pub- 
lished, in 1592, a volume of verse in 
Spanish and Portuguese. — ‘*De la His- 


toria de Sagunto, Numancia, y Cartago, 
compuesta por Lorencio de Zamora, 
Natural de Ocafia,” Alcala, 1589, 4to, 
— nineteen cantos of oftava rima, and 
about five hundred pages, ending ab- 
ruptly and promising more. It was 
written, the author says, when he was 
eighteen years old ; but though he lived 
to be an old man, and died in 1614, 
having printed several religious books, 
he never went further with this poem. 
(Antonio, Bib. Nov., Tom. II. p. 11.) 
But he published a volume of miscel- 
laneous poetry at Madrid, in 1592, 4to, 
entitled ‘* Varias Obras,”’ some of which 


, are in Portuguese and some in Italian. 


588 JUAN DE LA CUEVA. [Pertop Il. 


his time; but that, later, he lived five years in Italy, 
much connected with Tasso, and from this time be- 

longed entirely to the Italian school of Spanish 
*500 poetry, to which, as his works show, * he had 

always been inclined. But, with all his efforts, 
—and they were not few,—he found little favor or 
patronage. The Count de Lemos refused to carry him 
to Naples as a part of his poetical court, and the king 
took no notice of his long poems, which, indeed, were 
no more worthy of favor than the rest of their class 
that were then jostling and crowding one another in 
their efforts to obtain the royal protection.” 

Juan de la Cueva followed in the footsteps of Mesa. 
Mis “ Bética,” printed in 1603, is an heroic poem, in 
twenty-four cantos, on the conquest of Seville by Saint 
Ferdinand. Its subject is good, and its hero, who is 
the king himself, is no less so. But the poem is a fail- 
ure ; heavy and uninteresting in its plan, and cold in 
its execution ; — for Cueva, who took his materials 
chiefly from the General Chronicle of Saint Ferdinand’s 


17 **Tas Navas de Tolosa,” twenty 
cantos, Madrid, 1594, 12mo;— ‘‘ La 
Restauracion de Espafia,” ten cantos, 
Madrid, 1607, 12mo ;— ‘‘ El Patron de 
Espafia,” six books, Madrid, 1611, 
12mo, with Rimas added. My copy 
of the last volume is one of the many 
proofs that new title-pages with later 
dates were attached to Spanish books 
that had been some time before the 
public. Mr. Southey, to whom this 
copy once belonged, expresses his sur- 
prise, in a MS. note on the fly-leaf, 
that the Zast half of the volume should 
be dated in 1611, while the jirst half is 
dated in 1612. But the reason is, that 
the title-page to the ‘‘Rimas” comes 
at p. 94, in the middle of a sheet, and 
could not conveniently be cancelled and 
‘changed, as was the title-page to the 
‘** Patron de Espafia,” with which the 
volume opens. Mesa’s translations are 
later; — the Eneid, Madrid, 1615, 
12mo; and the Eclogues of Virgil, to 
which he:added a few more Rimas and 


the poor tragedy of ‘‘Pompeio,” Ma- 
drid, 1618, 12mo. The ottava rima 
seems to me very cumbrous in both 
these translations, and unsuited to 
their nature, though we are reconciled 
to it, and to the terza rima, in the 
Metamorphoses of Ovid, by Viana, a 
Portuguese, printed at Valladolid, in 
1589, 4to; one of the happiest transla- 
tions made in the pure age of Castilian 
literature. The Iliad, which Mesa is 
also supposed to have translated, was 
never printed. In one of his epistles, 
(Rimas, 1611, f. 201,) he says he was 
bred to the law; and in another, 
(f. 205,) that he loved to live in Castile, 
though he was of Estremadura. In. 
many places he alludes to his poverty 
and to the neglect he suffered ; and in 
a sonnet in his last publication, (1618, 
f. 113,) he shows a poor, craven spirit 
in flattering the Count de Lemos, with 
whom he was offended for not taking 
him to Naples. After this we hear 
nothing of him. 


Cuap, XXVIII] EL PINCIANO. 589 


son, was not able to mould them, as he strove to do, 
into the form of the “ Jerusalem Delivered.” The task 
was, in fact, quite beyond his power. The most agree- 
able portion of his work is that which mvolves the 
character of Tarfira, a personage imitated from Tasso’s 
Clorinda ; but, after all, the romantic episode of which 
she is the heroine has great defects, and is too much 
interwoven with the principal thread of the 
story. The general plan * of the poem, how- * 501 
ever, is less encumbered in its movement 
and more epic in its structure than is common in those 
of its class in Spanish literature ; and the versification, 
though careless, is fluent, and generally harmonious.” 
A physician and scholar of Valladolid, Alfonso Lopez, 
— commonly called El Pinciano, from the Roman name 
of his native city, wrote in his youth a poem on 
the subject of Pelayo, but did not publish it till 1605, 
when he was already an old man. It supposes Pelayo 
to have been misled by a dream from Lucifer to under- 
take a journey to Jerusalem, and, when at the Holy 
Sepulchre, to have been undeceived by another dream, 
and sent back for the emancipation of his country. 
This last is the obvious and real subject of the poem, 
which has episodes and machinery enough to explain 
all the history of Spain down to the time of Philip the 
Third, to whom the “ Pelayo” is dedicated. It is long, 
like the rest of its class, and, though ushered into 
notice with an air of much scholarship and preten- 
sion, it is written with little skill in the versification, 


® “Conquista de la Bética, Poema 
Herdico de Juan de la Cueva,” 1603, 
reprinted in the fourteenth and fifteenth 
volumes of the collection of Fernandez, 
(Madrid, 1795, with a Preface, which 
is, I think, by Quintana, and is very 
good. <A notice of Cueva occurs in the 
Spanish translation of Sismondi, Tom. 


I. p. 285 ; and a number of his unpub- 
lished works are said to be in the pos- 
session of the Counts of Aguila in Se- 
ville. Semanario Pintoresco, 1846, p. 
250. Gayangos cites a volume of Cu- 
eva’s poetry, entitled ‘‘ Obras,” pub- 
lished at Seville in 1582. 


590 MOSQUERA AND VASCONCELLOS.  [Prnrtop II. 


and is one of the most wearisome poems in the lan- 
guage.” 

In 1612 two more similar epics were published. 
The first is “ a Numantina,” which is on the siege of 
Numantia and the history of Soria, a town standing in 
the neighborhood of Numantia, and claiming to be its 
successor. The author, Francisco Mosquera de Bar- 
nuevo, who belonged to an ancient and distinguished 

family there, not only wrote this poem of 
* 502 *fifteen cantos in honor of the territory 

where he was born, but accompanied it with 
a prose history, as a sort of running commentary, in 
which whatever relates to Soria, and especially the 
Barnuevos, is not forgotten. It is throughout a very — 
solemn piece of pedantry, and its metaphysical agen- 
cies, such as Hurope talking to Nemesis, and Antiquity 
teaching the author, seem to be a good deal in the tone 
of the old Mysteries, and are certainly anything but 
poetical. The other epic referred to is by Vascon- 
cellos, a Portuguese, who had an important command 
and fought bravely against Spain when his country was 
emancipating itself from the Spanish yoke, but still 
wrote with purity, i the Castilian, seventeen cantos, 
nominally on the expulsion of the Moriscos, but really 
on the history of the whole Peninsula, from the time 
of the first entrance of the Moors down to the final 
exile of the last of their hated descendants by Philip 
the Third. But neither of these poems is now remem- 
bered, and neither deserves to be.” 


19 «¢R] Pelayo del Pinciano,” Madrid, have never seen it. ‘‘La Patrona de 


1605, 12mo, twenty cantos, filling above 
six hundred pages, with a poor attempt 
at the end, after the manner of Tasso, 
to give an allegorical interpretation to 
the whole. I notice in N. Antonio, 
**La Iberiada, de los Hechos de Scipion 
Africano, por Gaspar Savariego de San- 
ta Anna,” Valladolid, 1608, 8vo. I 


Madrid Restituida,” by Salas * Barba- 
dillo, an heroic poem in honor of Our 
Lady of Atocha, printed in 1608, and 
reprinted, Madrid, 1750, 12mo, which 
I possess, is worthless, and does not 
need to be noticed. 

20 “La Numantina del Licenciado 
Don Francisco Mosquera de Barnuevo, 


Cuar. XXVIII] BERNARDA FERREIRA. 591 


*From this point of time, such narrative * 503 
poems, more or less approaching an epic form, 
and devoted to the glory of Spain, become rare ;—a 
circumstance to be, in part, attributed to the success 
of Lope de Vega, which gave to the national drama a 
prominence so brilliant. Still, in the course of the next 
thirty years, two or three attempts were made that 
should be noticed. 

The first of them is by a Portuguese lady, Bernarda 
Ferreira, and is called “Spain Emancipated” ; a tedious 
poem, in two parts, the earlier of which appeared in 
1618, and the latter in 1673, long after its author’s 
death. It is,in fact, a rhymed chronicle, — to the first 
part of which the dates are regularly attached, — and 
was intended, no doubt, to cover the whole seven cen- 
turies of Spanish history from the outbreak of Pelayo 


etc., dirigida 4 la nobilissima Ciudad 
de Soria y 4 sus doce Linages y Casas 4 
ellas agregadas,” Sevilla, 1612, 4to. 
He says ‘‘it was a book of his youth, 
printed when his hairs were gray” ; but 
it shows none of the judgment of ma- 
ture years. 

‘* Ja Liga deshecha por la Expulsion 
de los Moriscos de los Reynos de Es- 
pafia,” Madrid, 1612, 12mo. It was 
printed, therefore, long before Vascon- 
cellos fought against Spain, and con- 
tains fulsome compliments to Philip 
III., which must afterwards have given 
their author no pleasure. (Barbosa, 
Tom. II. p. 701.) The poem consists 
of about twelve hundred octave stanzas. 

‘‘La Espatta Defendida,” by Christ. 
Suarez de Figueroa, Madrid, 1612, 12mo, 
and Naples, 1644, belongs to the same 
date, making, in fact, three heroic po- 
ems in one year. This last is on the 
story of Bernardo del Carpio, and ends 
with the death of Orlando, — the whole 
divided into fourteen books, and making 
about fourteen hundred octave stanzas. 

Gayangos notes here five or six he- 
Toic or narrative poems, that belong to 
the same period, and, though of little 
value, and only a part of the crowd that 
might be enumerated and that are found 


in Rosell’s list, should yet, perhaps, 
have some notice. 

The oldest is of 1568, by Balthasar 
de Vargas, and is entitled ‘‘ Breve Re- 
lacion, ec., de la Jornada del Duque de 
Alva desde Espafia hasta Flandes,’’ — 
a mere compliment, and a very poor 
one, to the Duke on his expedition to 
Flanders, which did so much to ruin 
Spain. 

The next, ‘‘ La Iffanta [sic] Corona- 
da,”’ by Joao Soarez de Alarcam, (Alar- 
con,) 1606, is on the story of the un- 
happy Inez de Castro. 

The third is ‘‘La Murgetana,” by 
Gaspar Garcia Oriolano, 1608, on the 
conquest of Murcia by Jaime I. of Ara- 


gon. 

The fourth is on a sea-fight of the 
Marquis de Sta. Cruz, published in 
1624, by Diego Duque de Estrada. 

The fifth is on another sea-fight, but 
won by Don Fadrique de Toledo, and 
was published in 1624 by Gabriel de 
Ayrolo Calan. 

And the last is by Simeon Zapata, 
on the expulsion of the Moriscos, which 
it defends in the spirit of that ruthless 
actof tyranny. It was printed in 1635, 
and translated at once into Italian. 

All are worthless, or nearly so. 


092 FIGUEROA. — ESQUILACHE. [Perrop Il. 


to the fall of Granada, but it is finished no further than 
the reign of Alfonso the Wise, where it stops abruptly. 
The second attempt is one of the most absurd known 
in literary history. It was made by Vera y Figueroa, 
Count de la Roca, long the Minister of Spain at Venice, 
and the author of a pleasant prose treatise on the 
Rights and Duties of an Ambassador. He began by 
translating Tasso’s “Jerusalem Delivered,” but, just as 
his version was ready to be published, he changed his 
purpose, and accommodated the whole work — history, 
poetical ornaments, and all — to the delivery of Seville 
from the Moors by Saint Ferdinand. The transforma- 
tion is as complete as any in Ovid, but certainly not as 
graceful; —a fact singularly apparent in the second 
book, where Tasso’s beautiful and touching story of 
Sophronia and Olindo is travestied by the correspond- 
ing one of Leocadia and Galindo. As if to make the 
whole more grotesque and give it the air of a grave 
caricature, the Spanish poem is composed throughout 
in the old Castilian redondillas, and carried through ex- 
actly twenty books, all running parallel to the twenty 
of the “Jerusalem Delivered.” 
The last of the three attempts just referred to, and 
the last one of the period that needs to be noticed, is 
the “Naples Recovered” of Prince Esquilache, 
* 504 which, *though written earlier, dates, by its 
publication, from 1651. It is on the conquest 
of Naples in the middle of the fifteenth century by 
Alfonso the Fifth of Aragon, who seems to have been 
selected as its hero, in part at least, because the Prince 
of Esquilache could boast his descent from that truly 
great monarch. 
The poem, however, is little worthy of its subject. 
The author avowedly took great pains that it should 


Cuar. XXVIII] ESQUILACHE. 593 


have no more books than the Aineid; that it should 
violate no historical proprieties; and that, in its epi- 
sodes, machinery, and style, as well as in its general 
fable and structure, it should be rigorously conformed 
to the safest epic models. He even, as he declares, 
had procured for it the crowning grace of a royal 
approbation before he ventured to give it to the world. 
Still it is a failure. It seems to foreshadow some of 
the severe and impoverishing doctrines of the next 
century of Spanish literature, and is written with a 
squeamish nicety in the versification that still further 
impairs its spirit ; so that the last of the class to which 
it belongs, if it be not one of the most extravagant, 1s 


one of the most dull and uninteresting.” 


21 <¢Hespatia Libertada, Parte Pri- 
mera, por Dojia Bernarda Ferreira de 
Lacerda, dirigida al Rey Catolico de las 
Hespafias, Don Felipe Tercero deste 
Nombre, nwestro Seftor,” (Lisboa, 1618, 
4to,) was evidently intended as a com- 
pliment to the Spanish usurpers, and 
in this point of view is as little credit- 
able to its author as it is in its poet- 
ical aspect. Parte Segunda was pub- 
lished by her daughter, Lisboa, 1673, 
4to. Bernarda de Lacerda was a lady 
variously accomplished. Lope de Vega, 
who dedicated to her his eclogue en- 
titled ‘‘ Filis,” the last work he ever 
published, (Obras Sueltas, Tom. X. p. 
193,) compliments her on her writing 
Latin with purity. She published a 
volume of poetry, entitled ‘* Soledades 
de Busaco,” in Portuguese, Spanish, and 
Italian, in 1634, a good German trans- 
lation of a part of which may be found 
in Blumenkranz religidser Poesien aus 
Sprachen des Siidens von C. B. Schlii- 
ter, Paderborn, 1855. She died in 
1644. 

** El Fernando, 6 Sevilla Restaurada, 
Poema Herdico, escrito con los Versos 
de la Gerusalemme Liberata, ec., por 
Don Juan Ant. de Vera y Figueroa, 
Conde de la Roca,” ec., Milan, 1632, 
4to, pp. 654. He died in 1658. An- 
tonio, ad verb. See further about him 
in Vol. III., Appendix C. 

‘‘Napoles Recuperada por el Rey 


VO 31: 38 


Don Alonso, Poema Herdico de D. Fran- 
cisco de Borja, Principe de Esquilache,”’ 
ec. Zaragoza, 1651, Amberes, 1658, 
4to. A notice of his honorable and 
adventurous life will be given, when 
we speak of Spanish lyrical poetry, 
where he was more successful than he 
was in epic. 

In the same year, 1651, another poem, 
on the subsequent conquest of Naples 
by Gonsalvo de Cordova, appeared at 
Granada (4to, ff. 138, making about 
six hundred octave stanzas). It is a 
sort of life of the Great Captain ; but 
though it contains an intimation of his 
death, it really ends with his departure 
from Naples for the last time. It is 
quite dull, and is entitled ‘‘ Napolisea, 
Poema Herdico, ec., por Don Francisco 
de Trillo y Figueroa.” He wrote lyri- 
cal poetry, a volume of which, under 
the title of ‘‘ Poesias Varias,”’ was print- 
ed at Granada in 1652 ;— some parts 
of it national and simple in its style, 
some affected and culto, like Gongora, 
whom he imitated. 

There were two or three other poems 
called heroic that appeared after these ; 
but they do not need to be recalled. 
One of the most absurd of them is the 
‘Orfeo Militar,” in two parts, by Joan 
de la Victoria Ovando ; the first being 
on the siege of Vienna by the Turks, 
and the second on that of Buda, both 
printed in 1688, 4to, at Malaga, where 


594 PASSION FOR HEROIC POEMS. [Perrop II. 


*505  *Itis worth while, as we finish our notice of 
this remarkable series of Spanish narrative and 
heroic poems, to recollect how long the passion for 
them continued in Spain, and how distinctly they re- 
tained to the last those ambitious feelings of national. 
greatness which originally gave them birth. For a 
century, during the reigns of Philip the Second, Philip 
the Third, and Philip the Fourth, they were continually 
issuing from the press, and were continually received 
with the same kind, if not the same degree, of favor 
that had accompanied the old romances of chivalry, 
which they had helped to supersede. Nor was this 
unnatural, though it was extravagant. These old epic 
attempts were, in general, founded on some of the 
deepest and noblest traits in the Castilian character ; 
and if that character had gone on rising in dignity 
and developing itself under the three Philips, as it had 
under Ferdinand and Isabella, there can be little doubt 
that the poetry built upon it would have taken rank 
by the side of that produced under similar impulses in 
Italy and England. But, unhappily, this was not the 
case. These Spanish narrative poems, devoted to the 
glory of their country, were produced when the na- 
tional character was on the decline ; and as they sprang 
more directly from the essential elements of that char- 
acter, and depended more on its spirit, than did the 
similar poetry of any other people in modern times, 
sO they now more visibly declined with it. 

It is in vain, therefore, that the semblance of 
the feelings which originally gave them birth is 


their author enjoyed a military office; was printed at Malaga in 1663, is not 


better. 


but neither, I think, was much read 
beyond the limits of the city that pro- 
duced them. His ‘‘Ocios de Castalia,” 
a volume chiefly of lyrical verse and 
anlage in the Italian manner, which 


He says in it, that he wrote 
his first poems in 1642, and that he 
served at Naples and at Vienna ; and I 
find that he was alive in 1688, beyond 
which | have no notice of him. 


Cuar. XXVIII.] FAILURE OF HEROIC POETRY. 595 


continued to the *last; for the substance is * 506 
wanting. We mark, it is true, in nearly every 

one of them, a proud patriotism, which is just as pre- 
sumptuous and exclusive under the weakest of the 
Philips as it was when Charles the Fifth wore half the 
crowns of Europe; but we feel that it is degenerating 
into a dreary, ungracious prejudice in favor of their 
own country, which prevented its poets from looking 
abroad into the world beyond the Pyrenees, where they 
could only see their cherished hopes of universal em- 
pire disappointed, and other nations rising to the state 
and power their own was so fast losing. We mark, 
too, throughout these epic attempts, the indications 
to which we have been accustomed of what was most 
peculiar in Spanish loyalty, — bold, turbulent, and en- 
croaching against all other authority exactly in propor- 
tion as it was faithful and submissive to the highest; 
but we find it is now become a loyalty which, largely 
as it may share the spirit of military glory, has lost 
much of the sensitiveness of its ancient honor. And 
finally, though we mark in nearly every one of them 
that deep feeling of reverence for religion which had 
come down from the ages of contest with the infidel 
power ofthe Moors, yet we find it now constantly 
mingling the arrogant fierceness of worldly passion 
with the holiest of its offerings, and submitting, in the 
spirit of blind faith and devotion, to a bigotry whose 
decrees were written in blood. These multitudinous 
Spanish heroic poems, therefore, that were produced 
out of the elements of the national character when 
that character was falling into decay, naturally bear 
the marks of their origin. Instead of reaching, by 
the fervid enthusiasm of a true patriotism, of a proud 
loyalty, and of an enlightened religion, the elevation 


596 FAILURE OF HEROIC POETRY. (Prrtop II. 


to which they aspire, they sink away, with few excep- 
tions, into tedious, rhyming chronicles, in which the 
national glory fails to excite the interest that would 
belong to an earnest narrative of real events, without 
gaining in its stead anything from the inspirations of 
poetical genius. 


END OF VOL. IL 











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